


Ghosts of Philadelphia

by FireflySummerwynd



Category: Poison (US Band), Richie Kotzen - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Medium - Freeform, Pagan, Paranormal, Spirit - Freeform, ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:28:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25605112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflySummerwynd/pseuds/FireflySummerwynd
Summary: Rob Dall was always considered both a freak and a gifted person–as was the rest of his family. After all, he embodied pretty much every type of Medium on the Planet, not just the psychic variety. His hometown fame really kicked off, though, after helping to solve a decades–even Centuries–old Mystery that'd plagued Mechanicsburg, PA when he was just a child.Richie Kotzen didn't know the first thing about Mediumship–in fact, he didn't even know hewasa Medium. But when he meets a man with far more pronounced abilities that's almost like an older version of himself after a friend gives him a call for some help, all that Changes.
Relationships: Bobby Dall/Richie Kotzen





	1. Prologue

Many who possess psychic or what’re often called _Otherworldly_ abilities stem from long lines of Mediums whose abilities’re passed down through the generations much like their DNA. Others who possess such abilities’re the first of their kind in their family, and often thought of as psychotic versus special. But one thing’s almost always true in both cases–they’re able to see, hear, and otherwise Communicate with the Spirit Realm from a very early age.

Rob Kuykendall–often affectionately referred to as Bobby by his family and closest friends–was one of those who’d possessed such abilities technically since before Birth. Like his mother and her side of the family before him, he could see, hear, and Communicate with the Dead, not to mention various other types of Spirits. Some were what were referred to as Elementals–meaning they were Spirits that were never human, but borne of the Earth, rather than being a demonic Entity. All the same, many folks in his small hometown of Mechanicsburg thought he, his siblings, and his mother alike were all crazy and needed to be locked away.

It was only after the Kuykendall–or Dall–children, Primarily Rob, helped solve the Mystery of the insane amount of hauntings in West Mechanicsburg that they were celebrated, rather than ridiculed. Few knew the significance of Water being a Spiritual conduit, so they didn’t realize that the Trindle Spring Run–which flowed North into the Conodoguinet Creek–was the main source of all the paranormal goings-on.

After they’d put their Pagan Knowledge to use and connected the dots between clues, the Dall children’d realized that the slow-moving Town run was providing Energy to the vast amount of Spirits in the area. With that additional Energy, they were able to Manifest in any number of ways ranging from the Living being touched to seeing and hearing things no one else could. Many of those Spirits were finally put to rest by the adults finally holding what amounted to long-in-coming funerals along the small Stream’s banks, and the activity was quick to die down afterward. People were able to Return to what they considered a relatively normal Life, easily co-existing with their ghostly residents who tended to just pop in long enough to essentially say _Hi! How’re you?_ before disappearing again.

However, helping to solve that Mystery mighta gotten the Dalls recognized as folks who needed to be celebrated rather than ridiculed, but it also came with some drawbacks. New folks who moved to town’d hear the story from other locals and wanna meet all of them, but none more so than Rob. By the Time he was seventeen, he hid in his bedroom at home, teaching himself how to play guitar and bass more than he went out for anything but school. He was often bombarded by Spirits for various reasons, and he couldn’t take the townsfolk and newcomers constantly bombarding him, too.

But one Day the Summer after he turned thirty, his talents were called upon again–this Time, both to solve a Mystery like the one from his childhood _and_ to help a fellow Medium going through the same thing.


	2. One

_June, 1994_

_Philadelphia, Penn_

Thirty-Year-old Rob Dall felt the car he was in lurch to a stop, but he couldn’t see a damn thing around him–not in a physical sense, that is. He’d been called upon by a high school friend of his for his abilities as a Medium, said friend having founded his own paranormal group. As always when this friend–Bret–called upon him to help with some of his cases, he’d been blindfolded and put on ear muffs like one’d use at a gun range for target practice prior to his arrival. It was an effort to help cut down on visual and auditory cues from his environment that might throw off the things he picked up on, and his friend knew that.

Even Bret’s friend and the tech geek of his paranormal group, Rikki, knew how he operated when it came to his first arrival at a new case. It was for that reason that said tech geek always made sure to squeeze his shoulder three Times in quick succession whenever he grabbed him. He wouldn’t have heard anything he said, but since he was often touched by Spirits, they’d to devise a way for him to tell the difference.

Stepping outta the car he’d been riding in when he felt that telltale triple squeeze, he was quick to anchor himself by grabbing Rikki’s shoulder. Not only did that serve as a bit of a tether to Reality, but it kept him from tripping over anything and falling flat on his half-covered face. He allowed himself to be led forward, the man leading him keeping a hand clamped over his own to ensure that he wouldn’t lose his grip. Moments later, he felt another hand grip his left shoulder, the ensuing triple-squeeze telling him that it was the leader of this lil group. Rob was quick to reach up with his free hand to grab at his friend’s shoulder by way of a Silent greeting, already picking up on at least one other person’s Energy.

Bret merely smiled, not even trying to say anything aloud as he watched the taller blonde lead his psychic friend into the house that he’d been called out to. He knew he wouldn’t hear him say anything, as well as that he didn’t really like being told anything about the locations he was often called out to help with. Besides, he knew his friend could distinguish between different types of Energy on his own–he didn’t need to be told who was alive, who was dead, and who’d never been human to Begin with right off the bat.

“I’m picking up on the Energy of someone living,” Rob said, his mouth turning down in a slight frown. “Either they’re here right now, or they spend so much Time here that their Energy’s _really_ left its mark on this place.”

The blondes simply shared a grin with each other, both able to see what he physically couldn’t–which was that there _was_ another living person with them, one of the home’s current residents.

“Whoever that person is, they’ve some _serious_ abilities,” he continued. “Mostly Clairvoyance and Clairaudience, but there might be a couple others.”

“What’s that supposed to be?” This was asked by the home occupant that was with them, Richie.

“Clear Seeing and Clear Hearing,” Bret whispered after leaning closer to him. “Basically, he’s validating what you’ve told us, rather than insinuating that you’re crazy like everybody else has.”

Even though he was freaked out by that, the young man simply nodded, startled when the taller, older brunette suddenly moved behind his friend.

“One at a fuckin’ Time!” said brunette snapped, using his right hand to draw some kinda symbol in the Air before mimicking shoving a living person away from himself. “Back off and go one at a Time, of I’m _burning_ ya off and leaving, damn it!”

“What on Earth?” Richie asked.

“He just got bombarded by a _lotta_ different Spirits at once,” the shorter blonde explained, still whispering. “He reacts like that when he’s trying to get a lil more Space and to get Spiritsta Communicate with him in an orderly manner so he can make sense of what they’re trying to tell him.”

“So, he’s open to them doing it–just not a crowd getting in his face at once?” he asked.

“Exactly.” Bret nodded as he watched his friend. “Mediums’ve to put down certain boundaries, or they’re constantly overwhelmed in ways most folks can’t even Begin to imagine.”

The younger brunette merely nodded, something about seeing this guy in action giving him Hope as they fell Silent. It was only moments later that said guy gave his friend’s shoulder three quick squeezes before demanding to be led to the back yard. He wouldn’t say why he wanted to go there as opposed to anywhere else in or outside the house, but Rikki didn’t bother arguing. Both blondes were well aware of how their friend operated when in the heart of a case, so he simply reached up to press his hand down on his shoulder before heading off to do as requested.

As soon as he stepped out onto the back patio, Rob gasped sharply and let out a groan that sounded almost like he’d just gotten socked in the gut. His grip on his friend’s shoulder tightened in his non-verbal signal to stop, which allowed him to take a moment to regain his bearings–well, as much as he could for being blindfolded. But even as he took a couple deep breaths and drew the same symbol as earlier–which freaked Richie out when he realized what it was–he was bombarded by different images from different Time periods.

Many of the people he Saw were no doubt from the Colonial period, meaning they’d to be some of the original settlers of whatever area he was in. They all seemed to be pissed about something, as did their compatriots from Time periods that got closer to the one they were currently in. A lotta those people looked like they’d have been from the nineteenth Century, most notably from about the Civil War era. He couldn’t tell _what_ they were pissed about, which was why he’d drawn that symbol in the Air and used his Energy to push them back, but they were all pissed. Once they realized he was actually trying to help them and backed off a bit, he started getting bits and pieces that made a lil more sense.

He didn’t know why, but the brunette started getting images of three different cemeteries that were obviously very old. Maybe they were from the Colonial period, maybe they were from the Civil War era–hell, for that matter, they coulda been from sometime between those two periods. For that matter, they mighta been established _after_ the Civil War, but not be as Modern as even the Victorian era, let alone newer than that.

“Cemeteries–there’s cemeteries somewhere around here,” he said, sounding as intrigued as he did confused.

“Damn, he’s good,” Richie whispered, even though he doubted this guy could hear him.

“Toldja he’s crazy-good, kid,” the shorter blonde responded, careful to keep the volume of his chuckle down so he definitely wouldn’t be heard through the ear muffs.

“Why the fuck am I getting Colonial, maybe Civil War?” Rob was asking that question mostly to himself–or maybe whatever Spirits were feeding him right now–rather than any of those with him.

“Gotta be Civil War,” the younger brunette said.

Bret simply cocked a brow, but made a hand motion to tell him to explain later so they wouldn’t interrupt the psychic walk.

“Goddess, fuck!” The sudden, pained cry startled even the taller blonde, especially when he doubled over so that his hand slipped from his friend’s shoulder and grappled till it caught his waistband. “I get trying to explain what happened to ya, but jeez–give a lil better warning before ya Energetically shoot me like that!”

“Relax, guys,” Rikki chuckled, reaching down to squeeze his friend’s forearm three Times. “Something just startled him, ’cuz he felt something that one of the Spirits once felt.”

“It happens a lot with Bobby,” the shorter blonde added. “He’s every kinda Medium known to man all rolled into one body after all.”

“Holy shit,” Richie breathed. “Makes just Seeing and Hearing shit seem like a cake walk.”

“That’s why he keeps drawing that symbol in the Air and pushing Spirits back,” the taller blonde said. “He can’t take but so much, especially all at once, before it turns detrimental to him.”

Moments later, Rob managed to straighten again, moving his hand back to his friend’s shoulder. “Something about a pool or a Pond now.”

“Are ya being drawn to something like that?” he asked after lifting one side of his ear muffs a bit.

“Yeah, I am,” the older brunette answered, nodding. “Just take me to it, if there’s one here.”

“Yea, yea, Cap’n,” Rikki laughed, gently Returning the ear muff to its previous position.

Reaching up to keep his hand pressed against his shoulder, he kept his steps slow as he headed off to the left of the patio. He was careful about leading his friend to the pool since the walkway was more like three separate walkways connected by a step each Time the next successive one rose. The last thing they needed was for him to trip and wind up eating brick or dirt, especially since they didn’t want him knocking his teeth out.

As soon as he felt his friend stop, which caused him to gently slam into his back, Rob was further bombarded by what’d drawn him to this spot. He didn’t know if there was a pool here now, or if there’d been one in the Past–the same went for there having been a Pond in this spot. But what he _did_ know was that regardless of which one it was, somebody’d drowned in this vicinity, and if not in this exact place, then somewhere very closeta here. That was when he got something else that made absolutely no sense, even though it tied in with somebody having drowned here.

Feeling like he was suddenly drowning, as if it’d been _him_ who’d once fought for the Life he’d ultimately lost, was what prompted the older brunette into reaching up to his head. Pulling off his blindfold and ear muffs was his Universal sign that he was essentially signing off, that he couldn’t take anymore for the moment. If he tried to push himself beyond his limits, it never Ended well for him, and–although Richie didn’t know it–he’d a son he needed to go home to sane.

“Holy fuckin’ Goddess alive,” he panted, dropping down to his knees on the brick that surrounded the pool as Rikki took what he’d pulled off his head.

“Deep breaths, man,” Bret said, kneeling down next to him so he could gently rub his back.

“Get your bearings back, and we’ll convene inside,” the taller blonde told him as he, too knelt down beside him.

“Just gimme my damn smokes,” Rob grumbled as he straightened, his hand rising to shove his hair back.

“Relax, relax,” he laughed, digging in his pocket for a moment. “I know the drill–a smoke after a walk, or you’re gonna wind up trying to kill somebody.”

“Damn right,” the older brunette said. “After the way I wind up getting bombarded on these walks, I need something to bring me back down, as it were.”

“Then light up,” Rikki told him. “’Cuz I don’t wanna be at the top of your shit-list.”

He simply flipped him off as he took the pack of Marlboro Reds and lighter that he held out to him, not really having much to say at the moment. First things first, he’d to get his head on straight so he could put together what he’d just experienced in his own head so it’d make senseta anyone else he told it to. If he didn’t, nothing he said was gonna make sense, which wouldn’t help his friends that’d originally took this case before they’d ever called him in.

Bret gently squeezed the shoulder of the younger brunette, reassuring him that he wasn’t truly being ignored. Rob’d already noticed him–he’d seen it in his eyes as he’d lit his smoke, which was why he’d moved a short distance away. He was trying to respect that he may or may not be a smoker, and that he might not want smoke right in his face, if he wasn’t in addition to putting his Thoughts together.

Once he’d killed off his smoke, ground it out against the brick under his boot, and pocketed the remaining butt, the older brunette made to push himself up. It was Time they took this pow-wow into the house so they could talk about everything he’d been bombarded by, which’d no doubt answer the questions now rattling around his brain. The first one he wanted answered was who on Earth the other brunette was and why he was here, considering that he generally didn’t like others being included in his walks. He’d to tie into all this somehow, but he couldn’t figure out exactly how yet, and that was the part that was gonna drive him crazy.

* * *

“All right–who’s the young gun with us?”

Rob wasn’t exactly one to beat around the bush when he’d questions that needed answers, and neither were his blonde friends. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together as a paranormal team–they’d Bird-Dog something to Death, if that was what it took to get answers. They were all fairly straightforward, too, which meant they didn’t tend to mince words unless it was just the right thing to do at any given Time.

“This is Richie,” Bret answered with a chuckle. “He’s the living Energy ya were picking up on at the very Beginning of your walk, when we were in the foyer.”

“Really, now?” He cocked a brow, even as he shook hands with the young man.

“This is my parents’ house, my childhood home,” the younger brunette told him, nodding. “My sister used to live here with us, too, but since she’s seven Years older, she’s already moved out.”

“That’d certainly explain your Energy practically pouring outta the walls, themselves,” Rob mused.

“So would the fact that I still live here as a caretaker for my parents,” he chuckled.

“Most definitely,” the older brunette agreed with a nod of his own. “If you’re not the one with some _serious_ abilities, I’ll eat my own foot, kid.”

“Well, I dunno _how_ serious, but he’s definitely got at least a few,” Bret broke in. “It was Richie who called us in, ’cuz he’s been Seeing and Hearing things that no one else can.”

“Classic Clairvoyance and Clairaudience,” he said. “Those with those particular gifts’ll See and Hear things that no one else can, which makes folks think they’re crazy and hallucinating.”

“Which’s exactly what’s been happening to me lately,” the younger brunette sighed. “My parents think I’ve lost my mind, as much as I see what looks like a woman about my age–which’s twenty-four, by the way–dressed in I’d say eighteenth-Century garb.”

“Ya mean like her?” Rob asked with a smirk.

Turning to look over his shoulder, his jaw dropped when he saw the same woman that’d been driving him to the brink of Insanity lately. Once again, she was dressed in what appeared to be the typical feminine dress of a Colonial era woman that was relatively nondescript in Color. He couldn’t say whether it was supposed to be white, brown, beige, or even tan that wasn’t quite the brown of mud. It was for that reason that he said nondescript, whether aloud or in his own mind, ’cuz there really wasn’t a better way to put it.

Looking back to the older brunette who was sitting across from him with a bit of a smug look on his face, Richie described what he’d just seen and had been for weeks. His description was downright uncanny, like he was describing the woman to a police sketch artist to help with solving a murder case or something. Yet, when the man sitting across from him all but parroted his description with only a few minor, more detailed differences, part of him felt validated. The fact that both blondes claimed they weren’t seeing anyone, let alone a woman fitting that description, just made him feel even more validated. Never in his Life’d he felt so constrained, yet free at the same Time, and it made a grin stretch and split his face as he nodded vigorously.

“I dunno if she’s a long-distant relation of yours, the wife of an original property owner, or what, but I _do_ know she’s somehow connected to the Land,” Rob told him.

“How the–” he started to ask, only to cut himself off when he smirked again.

“Claircognizance, kid,” the older brunette chuckled. “Bret, Rikki, and I’ve known each other since high school–they know better than to tell me _anything,_ if they actually want my help on a case.”

“I just about guarantee if we sic Blues–our team historian–on the local library and whatnot, he’ll dig up something that corroborates that,” Bret said, nodding.

“He may not turn up actual names or anything like that, but Blues is good at what he does,” Rikki agreed. “Even if all he turns up is something about this woman you’re both apparently seeing being a former owner’s wife or something, that kinda thing happens just about every Time Bobby tells us this kinda shit.”

“So, what else didja get?” the younger brunette asked curiously. “’Cuz I don’t wanna put ideas in your head that weren’t already there versus have my own experiences validated.”

“I kept getting images of cemeteries–like, really old ones,” Rob answered. “Prolly outta the Civil War era, maybe dating as far back as the Colonial era–not that uncommon in historical areas, but I couldn’t ever get a good enough look at any of the headstonesta say exactly what period.”

“Civil War, definitely,” Richie told him. “The Mt. Vernon and Mount Peace Cemeteries–which butt up against the back property line–were both established in 1856.”

“Well, Goddess fuck– _there’s_ part of your problem right there,” he laughed. “Butting your home right up against a cemetery’s _bound_ to cause a few hauntings, in and of itself.”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who picked this place–blame my Ancestors for that!” the younger brunette retorted, choosing to ignore his use of the word _Goddess_ yet again.

Once they’d Calmed down so they could actually talk again, Richie continued with something that was equally surprising. Directly across the street from the Mt. Vernon Cemetery was one that was even older, and even more infamous for being haunted. In fact, the older brunette’d heard of the Laurel Hill Cemetery plenty of Times, ’cuz it’d come up in research on various other cases he’d helped with.

With all three of those cemeteries practically in a straight line from the far side of Laurel Hill to the very front edge of Richie’s Ancestral Land by the street, it was no Wonder there was a lotta activity here. After a few moments’ Thought, said older brunette looked up at him and said that he wouldn’t be surprised to find out this very house was actually built on top of an even older cemetery. Then again, it might not even be a cemetery as Modern folks knew them, but something more along the lines of a Native American burial ground. If combined with the restless Souls of soldiers and families killed during the Revolutionary and Civil Wars, it’d certainly explain why he’d been bombarded with so much Anger the second he’d stepped outta Rikki’s car.

Bret and said taller blonde weren’t surprised to hear that, ’cuz this was far from the first case they’d worked where there’d turned out to be an Ancient burial ground that’d been disturbed involved. Sadly, it was a more common occurrence than either of them cared to admit, ’cuz many white settlers didn’t give the deserved Respect to other cultures’ dead. If anything, they considered them no better than Wild Animals, so they’d no qualms about digging up and otherwise disturbing graves that didn’t belong to them and theirs.

That being said, Rob zeroed in on the younger brunette with a Dark gaze that held the intensity of a laser, which made him squirm in his seat. He made no bones about thinking that he needed some serious training in his abilities, or he was gonna suffer one of two Fates. If he didn’t completely lose his mind by getting too overwhelmed, or he was gonna wind up accused of shit that wasn’t actually true ’cuz he couldn’t prove the Truth.

“Trust me when I say the former’s more likely to happen quicker,” he told him. “If ya dunno how to throw up certain walls and keep them up, Spirits’re gonna come atcha left, right, and Center.”

“I’m guessing that’s pretty much the story of your Life, isn’t it?” Richie asked.

“Unfortunately, and it fuckin’ sucks sometimes,” the older brunette answered, nodding. “I’ve had Spirits try to get my attention, even when I was in the middle of something intimate. Talk about a buzzkill for the Times when I’d a partner in my bed, and I’d have a Spirit whack me in the back of the head ’cuz I was tuning them out, or something along those lines.”

“Damn, seriously?” His jaw dropped, his blue eyes widening in surprise, as he processed that.

“I embody pretty much every type of Medium on the Planet,” Rob said. “Physical, psychic, mental, even the ability to Channel Spirits, if I ever lose enough of my mind to let them temporarily take over–or they’re simply too strong for me to fight off at first.”

“Jesus Christ,” the younger brunette winced.

“Part of psychic Mediumship’s anything that starts with _Clair,”_ he continued. “Clairvoyance is _Clear Seeing,_ Clairaudience is _Clear Hearing,_ Clairsentience is _Clear Sensing,_ Clairsentinence is _Clear Feeling,_ Clairailence is _Clear Smelling,_ Clairgustance is _Clear Tasting,_ and Claircognizance is _Clear Knowing.”_

“Okay, now that makes a lil more sense,” Richie said. “’Cuz I’ve seen and heard shit no one else can since I was a kid, but I’m not surprised even the other senses can be affected, too.”

Chuckling as he got up to head out for another smoke since he wasn’t so crass as to smoke in someone else’s home, the older brunette told him that the other senses could most definitely be affected by Spirits. A lotta folks claimed to feel something touch them, smell things that were strange to a particular environment, and even get the sense that they were being watched when there wasn’t anyone else around. Having something pop into mind that they shouldn’t know–like him swearing by the Colonial-era woman most likely being a former owner’s wife or something–was definitely along the lines of Intuitive.

After taking a drag of the cigarette he’d lit up, Rob continued by saying that he’d a few experiences where he’d even taste something he considered weird. It was usually the flavor of a fruit he’d never actually eaten, or some kinda homemade pie that he wasn’t familiar with. There’d been a few instances where he’d taste something more along the lines of rotting meat, but those were even fewer and farther between than the pleasant flavors he’d be presented with by a Spirit.

Richie was definitely interested and said that he was all for learning more about his own abilities and how to Control them. Well, maybe not exactly Control them, _per sé_ –maybe what he meant was more along the lines of learning how to Control when they affected him and when they didn’t. He might not always be able to Control when he saw and heard things, but he might be able to get more of a handle on his reactionsta such occurrences. The problem with that was that–other than the older brunette–he didn’t know anyone else with these kindsa abilities that could even Begin to teach him. And he certainly didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to protect himself from potentially harmful Entities, especially those that’d never been human to start with.

Letting out his final drag before crushing his cigarette under his boot to put it out again, Rob told him that he was more than willing to help him. For that matter, his older siblings–brother Butch and sister Patty–most likely wouldn’t tell him no as an answer to a request for help. They all remembered how it felt to have nowhere but their own psychic mother to turn to, and they hated hearing about others feeling like that.

However, while he was certainly willing to help the younger brunette, he’d his son that he eventually needed to Return home to. Both his siblings were also parents–each’d a son _and_ daughter–so they’d help as much as they could over the phone, but a lotta things were best taught and learned in person. That left him with a choice that he knew wouldn’t be easy–he could make regular trips out to Mechanicsburg to get help from all three siblings, or the older brunette could come out to Philadelphia as often as possible. He made it clear that he didn’t have to make a decision immediately, but that was pretty much the only way he was ever gonna get the kinda help he was looking for. In the meantime, Bret and Rikki’d asked for his help with a couple other cases they were working, so it was a good Time to start showing him more than just today’s walk did.

As he loaded up with the trio to head back to their headquarters, Richie couldn’t help but think that maybe this wasn’t the worst thing that’d ever happened to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, here's a link to the house I'm using as a model in this story. It's actually North of Philadelphia, but for the sake of the story, we're gonna pretend it's on a lot near the neighborhood of Allegheny West that appearsta be a ball field now, judging by the Google Maps image I'm using.
> 
> Said ball field's practically straight across from the Schuylkill River, which borders Philadelphia to the West–the Delaware River borders that City to the East. That theme's gonna play a helluva role in Future chapters, so keep that in mind as the story progresses.
> 
> In an almost completely straight line heading due East's part of the Laurel Hill Cemetery, the Mt. Vernon Cemetery, and the Mount Peace Cemetery. That's gonna play another big role later on, and I've another idea that's gonna play an equally big role. However, that third idea's gonna take some more research once I get closer to actually using it, which's gonna be a ways off. In the meantime, I've a Fish tank to do some more work on to End a Fish-demic that suddenly started.  
> ~Firefly
> 
> Link to Richie's Haunted House–https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1409-Hampton-Rd-Rydal-PA-19046/9896985_zpid/?


	3. Two

Upon arriving at where Bret and Rikki’d set up a temporary headquarters due to the volume of cases that seemed interconnected, the first thing that Rob did was grab the nearest phone. He wanted to make a quick call back home to let his mother know he was gonna be staying in Philadelphia longer than he’d anticipated. She was watching his young son for him since he’d thought he’d make the couple-hour drive out East, then come back home once he’d done his psychic sweep. But on the way over here, he’d been told that this wasn’t the only weird case lately, and they were still trying to figure out the big Mystery.

Hearing his mother’s voice was more than a lil Grounding for him, considering that he wasn’t actually Grounding himself right now. But hearing that of his young son, Zak, brought a smile to his face the likes of which few ever saw anymore, considering the things he dealt with on a daily basis. Knowing that his baby boy was protected in more ways than one was a relief, one that allowed him to focus a lot better and easier.

Richie almost wanted to ask what on Earth woulda prompted that kinda response from the older brunette, but there was another part that didn’t. He almost felt like he’d be intruding a lil too much, if he asked what about a phone call coulda made him smile like that. Granted, he’d be the first to admit that this man’d a downright gorgeous smile–although not aloud since few knew he was actually gay. Intruding on someone else’s Life in any way, shape, or form just wasn’t his style, but that was where he got his first surprise about this guy.

“I don’t mind talking about my son,” he chuckled as they settled in the conference room of the Philadelphia PD’s ninth district that the paranormal group’d taken over.

“Wait, you’ve a son?” the younger brunette asked, looking surprised.

“Well, I turned thirty last Year,” Rob answered with a laugh. “Not that unusual for someone that age to have a kid that’s anywhere from newborn to about three.”

“I guess that’s true enough,” he agreed, nodding. “Definitely not quite as unusual as someone my age having a child that old already.”

“Even that’s not _too_ unusual,” the older brunette said. “I’m pretty sure the average age between generations is twenty to twenty-five.”

_“Mmm,_ good point,” Richie mused. “I’m guessing ya worry about your son, especially when you’re helping with cases like mine?”

“Definitely when I’m putting my psychic abilitiesta use.” He nodded as Bret and Rikki Returned from getting coffee, Blues on their heels. “Mediumship runs in my family, and Zak’s been showing signs of inheriting it ever since he was born–hell, even before then, just like I did.”

“Holy fuck,” the next-to-youngest brunette breathed.

“That being said, I know my mother can protect him in every way imaginable–but that still doesn’t stop me from worrying when he’s not in my sight,” Rob concluded.

“It’s completely Natural, man,” Bret chuckled. “Hell, I’d be more worried aboutcha, if ya _didn’t_ worry about Zak like that, especially when he’s not nearby.”

“Seriously.” The taller blonde nodded as he settled at the table with them. “We’ve all seen how hard a Time ya can have sometimes–well, Richie hasn’t, but that’s beside the point. The point’s that if he’s to deal with half of what _you_ do, and without knowing _how_ to protect himself–well, I can’t say _I_ wouldn’t worry about him like that, if he were _my_ son.”

“I think we all worry about him, anywhore,” Blues laughed. “But at the moment, we’ve more to worry about that I’m pretty sure isn’t gonna go after Zak anytime soon, if ever.”

That caught their attention as they all sipped their coffee, the youngest of the brunettes starting to spread out what were obviously file folders. As the rest of them listened Intently, he explained how he’d found out that even before America was its own Entity, in terms of being a country, there were tons of Deaths in the area. Everything from Deaths caused by battle to ones caused by disease–it was all on the table as to why there’d be so many paranormal cases recently.

All throughout the Colonial and Civil War eras–even closer to the Victorian and Industrial eras–there were all sortsa diseases that’d pretty much died out in more Modern Times. There were no doubt untold numbers of graves in the trio of cemeteries near Richie’s house caused by anything from dysentery to yellow fever back up to malaria. In addition to all the known, marked graves in the combined three cemeteries, there had to’ve been Gods-only-knew how many _unknown, unmarked_ graves in the area. Just about every family that’d ever lived in the area _had_ to’ve buried at least one infant on their property, given that many were too poor to afford a family plot in an established cemetery, or simply too isolated.

“And that’s not even including what’re likely an innumerable amount of mass graves due to battles fought in the area,” Blues said.

“So basically, this is basically a hot-bed for the paranormal?” Richie asked.

“Even for those who _aren’t_ at least mildly sensitive, let alone a full-blown psychic like Rob,” he answered, nodding. “For those who _do_ have even the slightest sensitivity to such things–well, it only gets worse for them.”

“The Spirits’re drawn to us ’cuz they know we can See and otherwise Communicate with them,” the oldest brunette chuckled. “Therefore, we experience more than others prolly will.”

“Course, that’s going by the assumption that not everyone _has_ such experiences,” the shorter blonde pointed out.

“Exactly, ’cuz it _could_ be that everyone’s such experiences–they just don’t talk about them,” Rikki agreed.

_“Touché,”_ Rob laughed. “But I think all of ya–including Richie–got what I meant.”

“Oh, we gotcha, loud and clear,” the next-to-youngest brunette chuckled.

“Now, what I wanna know…” The youngest brunette turned his attention to him. “Howdda _you_ tie into all this?”

“He’s actually the son of the couple who own that house we went to earlier today,” Bret supplied.

“Not to mention that he’s a milder version of me,” the oldest brunette said.

“You’re shitting me!” Blues’ jaw dropped in shock.

“If the kid’s not Clairvoyant and Clairaudient, I’ll eat my own foot and suck my own dick,” he retorted. “And I think we both know I damn well _can,_ if I wanna bad enough.”

Richie couldn’t help the confusion that wrote itself all over his face, ’cuz he couldn’t figure out how on Earth a man’d suck his own dick without having a few ribs removed. Grinning as he saw that confusion, the oldest brunette pulled his right leg up, and before they knew it, he’d wrapped that limb around the back of his neck like he’d wrap his arm around someone else’s shoulders. All it took from that point was for him to duck his head and curl up a bit, and he was easily able to bite his own zipper.

Not even Bret and Rikki could help cracking up as he actually used the action of sitting up to pull his zipper up from where it’d apparently slid down at some point. Clearly, this guy was more flexible than most gave him credit for, so sucking his own dick might not be as far outside the Realm of Possibility as they’d thought. It was certainly a feat none of them were likely to manage anytime soon, that was for damn sure, and they knew it.

Once Rob’d sat up and unwrapped his leg from around his neck, everybody in the room buckled down and got back to the business at hand. Even as he reached for his mug, he filled the youngest brunette in on how he’d already agreed to show him a few of the ropes, so to speak. The easiest way to do part of it’d be to get him in on the investigations, ’cuz he could get more practice at actually using his abilities while supervised. He didn’t mean that as in he thought he was incapable of doing it alone, but rather that he meant that he’d have folks there that could help him, if he ran into trouble.

“The Spirit Realm’s _nothing_ to play around with, if you’re inexperienced,” he said, his gaze shifting back to the man of the hour.

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” Richie told him.

“And I hate to say it, but your cross isn’t always gonna protectcha,” the oldest brunette revealed. “Sometimes, it takes more of an open mind and being willing to go down other Paths, so to speak.”

“Whaddaya mean by that?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I mean that I’ve tried following Christianity–even Catholicism–and it doesn’t do shit for me,” Rob answered bluntly. “The only thing that’s ever _really_ Protected me’s Paganism.”

“Wait, _what?”_ The next-to-youngest brunette’s jaw dropped much the same way Blues’ had a few minutes ago.

“There’s a lotta Irish and German on my Birth father’s side of the family–wouldn’t have a German surname, or a redheaded brother, if that weren’t the case,” he explained. “My mother’s from Florida, so there’s a lotta Spaniard and Seminole there.”

“So, it’s pretty much a mish-mash, is what you’re saying?” Richie looked like he was starting to get it.

“Exactly, and in everything from blood linesta religious views,” the oldest brunette answered, nodding. “We all know that Paganism’s more widespread than a lot like to believe, let alone admit–it’s all over Celtic and Germanic cultures, and what the hell do ya think Native American religions are?”

“Fair enough.” He nodded as he shifted in his chair slightly.

“But several of those same cultures also practice widespread Catholicism and Christianity,” Rob continued. “St. Brigid’s Day’s nothing but a Pagan rip-off since it came from the Sabbat _Imbolc.”_

The oldest brunette was more than glad to explain that the basis of _Imbolc_ was basically celebrating the fact that Spring was on its way. In Irish Gaelic, that lone word actually meant _Ewe’s milk,_ which tied back to the Ewes nursing their newborn Lambs. Such an occurrence was one of the ways that the Ancients kept track of Time and were able to know how much cold Weather they’d to endure before the big Spring thaw.

Getting back to the point he’d been trying to make, though, he explained that he’d tried using Christianity and things like the crossta protect himself. Every Time he wore such a pendant when trying to fend off various Spirits, especially the more malevolent ones, it seemed to backfire. What’d normally be just a poke in the ribsta get his attention’d be more like getting socked in the gut, or just running fingernails down his forearm’d take on the form of actual claw marks. He didn’t know if it was ’cuz he was actually being attacked by what a lotta folks called demons or not, but he knew that particular symbol always made things worse for him.

On the other hand, whenever he wore his Pentacle, it seemed that while a lotta Entities’d tuck tail and run, many were more attracted to him. Rob also noticed that he also wouldn’t get touched as much, but when he did, it was more akin to when his son’d wake him up from a nap ’cuz he was hungry. It seemed that while the Christian God wasn’t gonna have his back with this shit, the Pagan Gods that’d reigned over his Ancestors always did and always would.

“Now, that being said, I’m not telling ya what to believe in since I dunno what’s gonna be the right fit for ya,” the oldest brunette said. “I’m just saying that it’s a good idea to keep your mind open to just about anything that could be helpful in this kinda shit.”

“Honestly, it kinda _sounds_ like you’re trying to tell me what to believe in,” Richie grumbled.

“That’s not the Pagan way, kid,” he chuckled. “We’ll educate when and where we can, but we don’t and won’t convert by force. That’s what the Catholic church did, and look where it’s gotten us–a World full of Warmongers that fight over Land ’cuz they say they’re the chosen people.”

The next-to-youngest brunette’s face twisted as he thought about it from a new perspective.

“If you’re open to learning, I’ll do what I can to teach ya, refer ya to others like my mother, if I can’t,” Rob told him. “If you’re _not_ open to it, then I’ma just drop it and go on about my merry way, so to speak.”

“Well, if I’m open to learning more about being a Medium, I guess it’s kinda stupid to say I’m not open to learning more about Paganism, too,” he sighed. “Still doesn’t mean I’ma believe in and practice it, though.”

“Never saidja _had_ to,” the oldest brunette laughed. “Again, I don’t and won’t convert by force.”

“I guess the first place I wanna start–how the hell am I supposed to protect myself from Spirits and other Entities?” Richie asked.

He didn’t bother trying to bite back a chuckle as he shifted in his own chair, something in his hand when he pulled it back outta the pocket he’d stuck it into. What he laid on the table was something the others’d always been taught was a symbol of pure, unadulterated evil–a five-pointed Star encased in a Circle. The next-to-youngest brunette almost wanted to rear back from it as he laid the pendant on the table in front of him so that fifth point–well, pointed at him, but he managed not to.

Rob explained that in nearly every Pagan culture, the Pentagram and its encircled counterpart weren’t symbols of evil, even when they were inverted. Whether they were good or evil depended solely on the Intent of whoever was using them, not whether that fifth point faced up or down. It was actually akin to how the term _Witch_ wasn’t gender-dependent, but rather _Intent_ -dependent, which was quite the controversial topic.

Brows furrowed all around the table as more than just Richie looked confused when he said that, which made him laugh. The oldest brunette explained that the vast majority of Pagans called practitioners who stuck strictly with the _White_ or even dipped into the _Gray_ a Witch, whether they were male or female. At the same Time, anyone who dove head-first into the _Black_ were called Warlocks, regardless of their biological gender. It was all in their Intent–even when they weren’t actively doing spell work–exactly as he’d said just a few minutes before.

“I guess it’s safe to assume you’re a Witch, then?” the next-to-youngest brunette asked.

“A Gray Witch, specifically,” he answered with a nod. “Meaning that I often dip into the _Gray,_ but never cross that line into the _Black.”_

“Fuck, I hope not, or I Fear for your son as much as I’m not gonna listen to shit thatcha try to tell me,” Richie laughed.

“Well, to put it in perspective for ya…” The oldest brunette paused as he shifted again. _“Black magick’s_ like a magickal cancer, of sorts–once it takes root, there’s no getting rid of it. Ya could have all the magickal chemo in all the Otherworlds pumped into ya, and it’d be like getting a diagnosis of terminal cancer here on the physical Plane.”

“Fuckin’-A, dude.” Even Rikki winced at that Thought.

“Therefore, one never–and I do mean _never_ –crosses into the _Black_ by accident,” Rob said. “They _always_ make a conscious choice, and when they do, they effectively sell their Soul for Eternity.”

Now it wasn’t just the taller blonde who winced at the mere Thought, but all of them.

“Personally, I’m downright terrified of even the Thought of selling my Soul like that,” he admitted. “I might toe the _Black_ with some really Dark _Gray_ from Time-to-Time, especially when my inner Water Witch’s dragged out, but I never actually cross it.”

“Wait, your inner Water Witch?” Even Bret looked confused now.

“I’m talking about the four physical Elements–Earth, Air, Fire, and Water,” the oldest brunette chuckled.

Even as he listed off the Elements in question, he pointed to four of the Star points, and they all got the feeling that there was some kinda significance. Sure enough, he went on to explain that each of the Elements were more or less _assigned_ to each of the Star points–Spirit resided at the fifth point, as if presiding over all. Another school of Thought when the Pentagram and Pentacle were inverted was that it meant Spirit was descending into all matter.

Since it was supposed to be a physical representation of all the Elements with Spirit presiding over all matter, it wasn’t a negative symbol till it was used by someone with negative Intent. As for the Circle that surrounded the Pentagram and thus Transformed it into a Pentacle, there was a relatively simple explanation for that, too, as it turned out.

“That Circle’s representative of the Circle a Witch casts when doing spell work,” Rob explained. “It’s cast at that Time as a protective measure against negative and other evil Entities.”

“Wait, it _is?”_ Blues asked, his brows rising in surprise.

_“Mmm hmm.”_ The oldest brunette nodded. “We cast those Circlesta protect ourselves and keep negativity out so it won’t Influence us, and thus sway us from our Intended goals.”

“Can’t say that’s a bad practice when ya think about it like that,” Richie mused.

“It’s the very reason I prefer my Pentacle over any other supposedly protective symbol,” he admitted. “Like I said before, everything I experience seemsta get worse with anything else–especially a cross–and this reminds me that my Goddess is always with me, that I’m surrounded by a protective barrier, of sorts.”

“Might be something worth trying out for myself, but I’d rather try an investigation with the cross I normally wear first,” the next-to-youngest brunette admitted. “If I don’t _have_ to give it up, I’d rather not, whether I learn more about Paganism or not.”

“Well, you’re gonna get your chance for that, boy.”

Looking over at the open doorway of the conference room, they saw the actual Chief of Police, himself standing there. Bret quickly roseta greet him, then turned his attention to introducing him to their newcomer since they obviously hadn’t met before. Following that, he asked what he’d meant with the way he’d announced his presence, and he certainly wasn’t surprised by the answer he got.

Another call’d just come in from a place that was all but within spitting distance of Richie’s house–the Historic Strawberry Mansion. It was right on the other side of the local concert venue from the far End of the Laurel Hill Cemetery, literally all of six hundred feet from the bank of the Schuylkill River. That immediately brought something to mind for the oldest brunette, but he wasn’t gonna say anything to the rest of the group as they grabbed their essentials. He didn’t wanna Influence his impromptu apprentice since it was bad enough that _he_ already had this information in mind, and was pretty sure his friends would, too.

Heading out to their next hit on the paranormal map, Richie was definitely a bit on the nervous side about what he was getting himself into. Even under the supervision of someone like Rob who was far more experienced in the psychic Arts, he was worried that he was gonna get into something he’d no business messing with. The only way to find out wasta dive right in and see what happened, and he was sure they were all hoping for the best as they headed back up the street by a mile or two to get started.


	4. Three

Over the next couple weeks, the cases just kept coming into the local police department, and they seemed to keep getting weirder and weirder. What’d started out as just seeing men, women, and children in what a lotta folks referred to as _period dress_ turned into stalking cases and phantom baby’s cries. The thing about the latter type was _where_ those phantom cries were said to be coming from–really weird places, like the kitchen faucet or a pipe coming outta the wall that led to nowhere.

If there was one good thing about the almost constant stream of paranormal calls, it was that Richie certainly got more chancesta practice using his abilities. Not only that, but it was quickly discovered that he’d another talent that he _didn’t_ share with the older Medium–remote viewing. Every Time they took him out to a case with them, he’d start seeing flashes of what turned out to be their destination before they ever arrived.

To keep him from Influencing Rob since he preferred going into a location blind–literally _and_ figuratively–he started jotting down notes about what’d come to him on the drive to each place. As soon as they’d pull up, he’d almost always been validated in what he claimed to be Seeing, even if he got a few minor details wrong. For example, he might see a Rose bush in his Vision, but there actually be Azaleas planted next to the front steps or something. Other than that, the younger brunette proved to be damn near spot-on every Time, and he admitted that it was a bit freaky to him.

But in between each case, he was being trained in far more than just tuning into his surroundings, both up close and from afar. One of the things that the older brunette insisted on training him in was various protective Charms that could be used by just about anyone, regardless of their religion. Things like the Crystals–or more aptly, tumbled Stones–that he carried in his own pockets, especially when he was out on a case. It was his way of making sure he was protected, but still respecting what he’d said about not wanting to give up wearing his cross, if he didn’t have to. Carrying around a chunk of something like Jet and Amethyst or any other combination of protective Stones wouldn’t necessarily make him an instant Pagan, but it’d certainly help with Warding off any Spiritual attacks.

When he wasn’t helping his impromptu apprentice with shit like that, Rob was busy trying to connect the dots and figure out the link between the cases. He’d absolutely no doubt they were all interconnected, but he hadn’t figured out _how_ they were connected just yet. The first thing that came to mind, considering the location of damn near _every_ case they took, was that it’d something to do with the River. After all, the Town run’d been the link between all the hauntings from his childhood, and Rivers were essentially Streams and Creeks on steroids. Since Water was a Spiritual conduit and crossing _running_ Water could sever the connection between the Living and a hounding Spirit, he thought that might have something to do with it.

However, that theory started to get questioned in his own head when he realized that several of their cases were anywhere from five-to-ten miles away. Several bordered the _Delaware_ River on the other side of town, rather than the Schuylkill that was all but in Richie’s back yard. At first, he almost thought that Water’d absolutely nothing to do with any of the cases, but that was an idea that was quickly nixed. The neighborhoods where the hauntings were strongest were all pretty much on the banks of one of the two Rivers. When he took a look at a topography map of the area that Blues managed to get his hands on, he was quick to rethink his theory and adjust it slightly. Once he’d seen that map, he’d absolutely no doubt that Water was most definitely involved somehow, but he wasn’t thinking it was being used as a paranormal highway, as it were. Rob was almost absolutely certain that it was being used as a food source, so to speak, rather than a manner of Travel.

“Whaddaya mean by that?” Bret asked after he’d finally laid out his theory to the others, including the younger Medium.

“Take a look at this map,” he told him, spreading out what Blues’d given him to look at.

“It’s a map of Philly,” Rikki said, his brow furrowing.

“Exactly.” The oldest brunette nodded as he anchored the paper down with weights in its corners. “Now, what borders the City?”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Blues said as he got it. “There’s a River on both sides that Spirits could useta feed on, so to speak.”

“Bingo.” Rob chuckled as he nodded again. “Now, take a closer look at the Rivers in question.”

“Holy–it looks like either a funnel, or a womb connecting to the Birth canal!” the shorter blonde gasped.

“Again, bingo,” he said. _“If_ the Spirits’re using the Rivers as a paranormal highway, they’re being funneled down to where the Schuylkill eventually empties into the Delaware.”

“Holy shit,” Richie breathed. “You’re definitely right, I think. I’m pretty sure that the cases were starting in the North and moving further South as each one was called in.”

“I still gotta take another look at the Timeline and connect a few more dots, but that’s my theory so far,” the oldest brunette admitted.

“Shit, it’s more than the rest of us’ve come up with so far, so I’m willing to run with it,” the taller blonde told him.

“That’s ’cuz the rest of ya aren’t trained in the Metaphysical,” Rob laughed, moving to roll up the map again.

“Whaddaya mean?” the next-to-youngest brunette asked.

“Water’s a major Spiritual conductor,” he explained. “It’s kinda like having a liquid Tesla coil, if that makes any sense, especially when it’s moving Water like a Stream, Creek, or River.”

“Hot damn, man,” Bret breathed.

“Crossing running Water–even by driving over a Bridge on your way to work–can sever any connections between the living and something like an Earth-bound human Spirit,” the oldest brunette continued. “Whyddaya think there’s stories about Vampires being unable to cross running Water in pursuit of a victim?”

“Well, shit.” The rest of them couldn’t deny that he’d a point none of them’d thought of since they weren’t Pagan, and therefore didn’t know shit about Pagan Lore.

“That being said, that could be why a lotta the folks don’t seem to experience anything once they cross one of those Riversta go to work, or to go shopping or something,” Rob told them.

Even Blues’d to agree that he certainly made a valid point, but there was something about his theory that didn’t quite add up. He thought there was something else that couldn’t be explained by a Spirit using a body of moving Water as either a food source _or_ a paranormal highway, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. A laugh rang out as he admitted that he felt the same way about his own theory, which was exactly why he’d taken a couple weeksta present even this much to everyone else.

The oldest brunette said he was prolly gonna head back home to Mechanicsburg over the weekend for a couple different reasons. Firstly, he wanted to check in on his son with more than just a phone call, which’d reassure the boy that he was alive and well better. Secondly, he wanted to dig through his Pagan booksta see if there was something in one of them that he might be spacing on, but’d fill in the holes within his theory.

All of them agreed that that was prolly a good idea, ’cuz they doubted they could find such books anywhere else. If they could, it’d prolly take even longer to turn up such things than anything historical from the City’s archives that’d help them out. Considering that Mechanicsburg was only a couple hours away, it wasn’t like it’d take nearly as long as if he’d to fly across the country and back again. Not only that, but after taking the proper measuresta Cleanse and protect himself, going back home for the weekend could serve the purpose of allowing him to clear his head. Such a thing’d no doubt help him fill in those theoretical holes as much as doing research beyond just historical archives would.

Since he wanted to learn as much as he could about Mediumship, Richie pulled him aside once the rest of the guys’d headed off to continue their own research and review their current stockpile of evidence. The older brunette was more than willing to let him join him, but he was quick to give him a stern warning he’d at least halfway expected. If he tried to harm Zak–or even his mother and siblings–he’d fall back on Ancient Pagan practices by making him his first and only human sacrifice. And if _he_ didn’t get him in that manner, he didn’t wanna know what the Celtic Goddess he Invoked for added Protection’d do to him.

Pulling up outside the brick home he shared with his son a couple hours after leaving Philadelphia, Rob couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. He was so excited to see his baby boy, considering it’d been a couple weeks since he’d gone to answer his friend’s call for help. Course, he knew that was gonna lead to some explaining that’d to be done the second he walked in the door more or less, but he wouldn’t have brought his impromptu apprentice, if he weren’t willing to.

Walking up to the front door, Richie took in the two-story brick house that they’d arrived at just moments before. Maybe it wasn’t as quaint as a smaller house mighta been, and certainly seemed bigger than what he thought the older brunette woulda lived in, but it was still nice. That trend continued as soon as he opened said front door and led him into the two-story foyer, which was capped off with an L-shaped staircase.

_“Mommy!”_

Said older brunette laughed as a lil face peeped outta the archway at the very rear of the stairs, quickly followed by the lil body it was attached to. Kneeling down like he was about to pop the question to a nonexistent girlfriend, he let Zak barrel into his chest so hard, it prolly woulda knocked anyone else off balance. Then again, he was used to his son’s antics, so he knew how to brace himself to avoid winding up knocked on his ass, whether he was sitting, kneeling, or standing. He couldn’t manage to knock him down unless he let him since he was only a lil bigger than an average three-Year-old.

“Hey there, lil man!” Rob chuckled, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Mama missed chu bunches!”

“Miss Mommy, too!” the toddler cried, wrapping his arms around his neck again. “Chu staying naow?”

_“Nuuuu,_ gosta go back and help Uncle Bret some more,” he answered, a bit of a sad note finding its way into his voice as he pulled back and shook his head.

_“Nuuuu!”_ Zak’s bottom lip trembled as tears welled up in his eyes, which were just as Dark as the older brunette’s.

“Chu know Mama’s gon’ come back to chu, no matter haow many Times I go to help chu uncle,” said older bassist told him. “And other peoples, too, for dat matter.”

He sniffled as he reached up to wipe at his eyes, obviously brushing away his tears.

“Dat includes dis man, here,” Rob told him, turning slightly.

“Huh?” The toddler looked up, his eyes widening when he realized they weren’t alone.

“Hey there,” Richie chuckled, finally moving to kneel down so he wouldn’t be towering over him, and therefore more than a lil intimidating.

“Who chu?” Zak asked, cocking his head like a curious puppy.

“My name’s Richie,” the younger brunette answered, unable to help a chuckle. “Chu name’s Zak, isn’t it?”

“Uh, huh!” He nodded exuberantly, then turned another curious look on him. “Haow chu knows mah name?”

“’Cuz I’m one of the people your Uncle Bret’s been helping,” Richie answered. He wasn’t quite sure how to refer to Rob to this boy, considering what he’d called him.

“Mr. Richie’s kinda likey us,” the older brunette explained.

“Chu Sees peoples, too!?” The toddler’s jaw dropped, his mouth forming a lil pink _O_ of surprise.

“And Hear them,” he answered, unable to help a smile. “Course, there’s one part that chu apparently _don’t_ experience, but I’m not quite sure how to explain it.”

“’member haow chu Sees places chu’s never been in chu Dreams, den tells meh about them?” Rob asked.

“Uh, huh–chu said ish Ast’al P’jection!” he answered.

“Mr. Richie can kinda, sorta do dat, too,” the older brunette told him. “But him’s _nuuuu_ aseeps when him does it–him’s wide awake.”

_“Ohhhh.”_ Zak nodded before looking back to their guest.

“We call dat _remote viewing,”_ he continued, rising with him snuggled against his chest. “Means him can see a place from a long way away, but it _seems_ likey him’s right dere in front of teh place.”

“’fusing,” the toddler muttered, a thoughtful look on his face.

Rob laughed as he headed off toward the doorway his son’d appeared from, gesturing for the younger brunette to follow him. He admitted it was a bit confusing to him, too, but that was often the case with something that one couldn’t experience for themselves. That made the boy giggle as they entered what was obviously the living room, and the younger brunette couldn’t help a smile of his own.

In the living room, he saw a woman that appeared to be in her fifties settled on the couch, a Knowing smile on her face. She didn’t appear that she was freaked out by hearing the front door open, even before she’d heard her son’s voice. That made the older brunette laugh as he turned a grin on him, saying that while she might not be as powerful in some ways, his mother always knew when he was near. After all, she’d known what his Energy felt like before Birth like he had with his son, so she always recognized it when she felt it anywhere in the general vicinity.

Richie gladly shook her hand, definitely not surprised that she officially introduced herself as his psychic teacher’s mother, Lynda. Even though she’d no doubt overheard her son explaining his presence in the foyer, she no doubt had a few questions that were soon to get asked. That’d put them on a more even kilter, though, since he was more than a lil curious about how the boy’d addressed said psychic teacher. Not only that, but he was confused since it wasn’t normal for a man to be referred to as _Mommy_ by their children.

“How long’ve ya known about your abilities?” she asked, her son heading just around the counter where he saw a sink with her grandson still snuggled against his chest.

“Well, I’ve been able to See and Hear people that others swore weren’t there for as long as I can remember,” the younger brunette answered as he settled on the couch next to her. “My earliest memory of such a thing’s prolly from around the age of two or three, but my mother swears I acted weird, even when I was an infant in onesies and diapers.”

“Like ya were Communicating with someone she couldn’t see with her own eyes?” Lynda asked, a Knowing smirk curving her lips.

“Yeah, actually.” He nodded, reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ear. “She always described it as a kid talking to their imaginary friend, or something along those lines.”

“That’s pretty much how everybody in my own family–even Bobby and Zak–describe it, too,” the middle-aged woman chuckled. “It seems like there’s no one there to those who don’t have abilities, but to those who _do,_ they know they’re not crazy or just being a Creative child.”

“I kept trying to explain that to my parents, but they never would listen,” Richie sighed. “They kept taking me to one shrink after another, having me put on one medication after another, like I was insane.”

“Which isn’t gonna do ya any good, no matter how oldja are,” the older brunette spoke up as he Returned with his son and the snack he’d gotten him.

“That’s exactly why I eventually quit taking the meds I was put on,” he admitted. “Might not’ve been the best choiceta just go cold turkey like that, but I couldn’t stand how they were making me feel anymore.”

Rob nodded as he settled on the Love seat that was turned perpendicular to the couch, lil Zak kneeling in the floor at the coffee table. He said that before he’d abandoned the family, his highly-Christian Birth father’d tried to have his mother medicated for being crazy like that. Even with a family history of Mediumship on her side, he hadn’t wanted to believe that she was a special woman who shoulda been celebrated. Unfortunately, his former stepfather’d been much the same way, to the point of trying to have him and his siblings medicated the same way.

Eventually, he and said siblings’d done pretty much the same thing as the younger brunette–they’d stopped taking the medication they were put on and refused to take it anymore. They hadn’t realized at the Time that their mother’d long since done the same, and she wasn’t gonna try to medicate them from that point on. It was what’d led to her second divorce and being a single mother again, but she was more than happy with that End.

Listening to their story, Richie couldn’t say that he hadn’t felt much the same way, which was the only reason he resented his parents as an adult. They’d made choices that–looking back on it–damn well coulda killed him, if not otherwise actually made him crazy. Giving him medication that he didn’t actually need since no amount of it’d ever help being a psychic Medium was one of the worst things they ever coulda done for him. Course, it wasn’t like they were medical professionals or had the kinda family history that the Dalls did, so they just didn’t understand what was really going on. If that was how he was gonna look at it, he couldn’t necessarily hold that against them, even if he still didn’t like what’d happened to him as a kid.

Neither mother, nor son were surprised when he told them that–as far as he knew–there wasn’t a family history of this on either side of his family. It was actually Lynda who said that not all Mediums possessed such a family history, although a lot _did_ turn out to be descendents of someone like them. As happened equally as often as having a family history, there wasn’t one–either it was a random case, or it was the start of such a lineage. Such abilities needed someone to start with and be passed down by, so it was definitely possible that he was that kinda psychic vessel, if one would.

The young man wasn’t the slightest bit surprised by either of those possibilities, but now, he just wanted his own, far more personal questions answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a link to the house I decided to use for Bobby this Time around. I know the listing says it's in Mars, PA–which's North of the Pittsburgh area–but for the sake of the story, we're gonna say it's outside Mechanicsburg instead.
> 
> Link to Bobby's House–https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/109-Cherokee-Ct-Freeport-PA-16229/93526016_zpid/?


	5. Four

Later that Eve, after Zak’d gotten to spend some Time with his parent and been put to bed following his bath, Lynda remained up for another hour or two before she headed off to bed. Once she’d retired to her room–which was right across the hall from that of her grandson and next door to the guest room–that left the two men to just hang out, if they didn’t head straight to bed. But even though Rob didn’t seem inclined to start his Pagan research–prolly so he wouldn’t wind up staying up all Night–he didn’t seem inclined to head off to bed just yet.

That was fine by Richie, though, ’cuz he wasn’t exactly inclined to head off to bed just yet, and not just ’cuz he felt a lil uneasy in unfamiliar surroundings. Not only that, but he hadn’t wanted to ask what’d been on his mind ever since they’d walked in when even the older brunette’s mother was around. He didn’t wanna offend him, but if that were to accidentally occur, he didn’t wanna possibly offend his mother on top of it.

A smirk curved his lips as he picked up on the younger brunette’s nervous Energy as they lounged in the living room, the TV turned down low enough that they really only heard a murmur. Whether he was a psychic or not, he pretty much already knew what was making him nervous enough for that kinda Energy to be rolling off him in Waves. He didn’t doubt for a split second that he was wanting to ask about how his son’d addressed him, but was trying to figure out how to go about it.

“Ya don’t have to worry about offending me, whether Mama’s around or not,” Rob chuckled.

His head shot up from where he’d looked down at his lap, his eyes wide as he locked gazes with him.

“Psychic or not, I can feel it in your Energy,” the older brunette told him. “You’re pouring Anxiety right now, so I daresay just about anybody’d be able to feel it.”

“Well, I can’t really deny that,” Richie said, managing a chuckle. “I mean, it’s kinda confusing for your son to refer to you as _Mama_ when you’re obviously a guy.”

“Simple Truth of the matter–’cuz I _am_ his mother.” He pushed himself up so he wasn’t slouching quite as much.

“Wait, what?” the younger brunette asked, his expression turning confused.

“Mediumship’s not the only thing to run in my family,” Rob explained. “Every generation of Mama’s family’s at least one hermaphrodite, usually the second-born son.”

“You’re shitting me,” he breathed, his eyes widening again.

“Not in the slightest,” the older brunette chuckled, shaking his head. “Sometimes it’ll be the first-born son, others it’s the _only_ son for that particular branch of the family Tree in any given generation.”

“Damn, that’s kinda freaky,” Richie said, somehow managing another chuckle of his own.

“Eh, not really,” he admitted. “I mean, we look at it as something to be celebrated.”

“I guess that’s true, considering that every other hermaphrodite I’ve ever heard of Ended up being sterile,” the younger brunette mused.

Nodding his agreement, Rob admitted that the only hermaphrodites he’d heard of that _weren’t_ sterile were the ones from his own family. Kinda like some kinda Mythological Creature or a Deity, all the boys born with such physical gifts like himself were able to reproduce in two different ways. They could father children like any other guy, but they could also _carry_ children, provided they’d no other Health problems that’d prevent that.

Taking a deep breath since he didn’t talk about this very often, he geared up to explain how Zak’d even been conceived. As it turned out, his biological father was none other than the taller blonde who was part of their paranormal team, Rikki. Richie’s eyes widened when he told him that, ’cuz it was certainly a curveball or three straight outta left field for him. He was aware that they’d known each other since high school–both’d made that quite clear to him right from the start–but he hadn’t thought they were exes. When he admitted that, he was surprised by the laugh that answered him, which confounded him just as much.

Once he’d Calmed down, the older brunette said that he and his friend weren’t actually exes, despite their having a child together. He explained that they’d taken Bret out to celebrate his twenty-seventh birthday in March of 1990, which wasn’t an uncommon practice amongst friends. Neither was all three of them getting at least buzzed, considering that such a thing was pretty common, especially if one was legal to buy alcohol. The only reason he hadn’t gotten quite as rotted was ’cuz he was supposed to be the designated driver that Night.

However, upon Returning to his house–the very same one they were sitting in now–so that they could all sleep off their celebration, things’d taken a turn he hadn’t been expecting. Rob swore up and down that Rikki hadn’t raped him, ’cuz he wouldn’t deny having been somewhat attracted to him ever since they were teenagers. But he also hadn’t thought that his friend liked him _like that_ in Return, so he’d never tried to act on his attraction. He hadn’t wanted to cross any lines he shouldn’t, so he’d decided to just take what he could get–which he’d thought Ended at platonic friendship. That was when he’d at least temporarily been proven wrong, ’cuz looking back on it, he was pretty sure that Night’d been the alcohol talking more than not.

“Rikki hasn’t once acted like he even remembers what we did that Night,” he sighed. “I dunno if that’s ’cuz he really doesn’t, or if it’s ’cuz he _does,_ and he just didn’t wanna embarrass me or something.”

“Yeah, I can see why you’d be reluctant to say anything,” Richie agreed, nodding. “If I were to sleep with one of _my_ close friends like that and it seemed like _they_ didn’t remember it, I’d be pretty reluctant to say anything, too.”

“Well, that, and he knows I’m generally not attracted to blondes,” the older brunette chuckled. “I usually go after the same Darker tones I possess, myself.”

_“Mmm.”_ He nodded again as he pondered that. “And if he thinks that _you_ don’t remember it–or that it was just a Dream he had–Rikki’d prolly be just as reluctant to say anything about it.”

“Which’s the only reason I’ve never told him that he’s Zak’s father,” Rob admitted. “Not ’cuz I Intend to hide it, _per sé_ –if that was the case, I wouldn’t let him spend Time with Zak, nor let Zak refer to him as _Uncle Rikki.”_

“Yeah, ya definitely can’t say you’re hiding his son from him–not entirely, at least,” the younger brunette agreed.

“But considering that Zak looks pretty much identical to me, I don’t really have to tell who his father is,” he said, a grin curving his lips. “His father could be just about anybody–including you–and the only one who’s gonna know who that man happensta be is me.”

“No shit, ’cuz I swear he looks like ya just cloned yourself,” Richie laughed. “But now you’ve piqued my Curiosity about something else.”

The older brunette cocked a brow as he made a motion for him to go ahead and ask, ’cuz he’d a feeling he knew what was now on his mind. After all, he hadn’t once said a thing about having a girlfriend or anyone else who was female and filled the role of significant other. Combined with being told that he was actually Zak’s biological mother, he’d no doubt that he wanted to know what his sexuality was.

Sure enough, the younger brunette proved him right in his unspoken guess, although he worded it a lil more eloquently than that. Rob couldn’t help a laugh, that grin never slipping from his face as he admitted that he most definitely _wasn’t_ straight. He’d never been attracted to women, although he could certainly appreciate their Beauty and the role they played amongst the rest of society, as far as reproduction and motherhood went. Everybody he’d ever been attracted to was most certainly male, even if they were just a typical man in the sense of not being a hermaphrodite.

Richie couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised by that, but that was the problem with stereotypes and preconceived notions. All this Time, he’d thought this man was straight and at least had an ex-girlfriend or something that he’d fathered a child with. In Reality, he was as gay as they came–although one couldn’t hear the telltale tone in his voice that they could with most gay men–and he’d actually been the one to carry his young son. There were all kindsa things about this man that could get a person in trouble for just assuming, as he found out.

Shooting him a reassuring smile, the older brunette told him that he knew he wouldn’t have been trying to offend him by asking his original question. If he’d felt like he meant to offend him, rather than just clear up his confusion, he never woulda brought him home with him, knowing that all this was bound to come up almost immediately. He certainly wouldn’t have told him that he was cool with him asking, if he’d thought he meant any disrespect toward anyone in his family. That kinda feeling woulda gotten him dodgy behavior, if he was feeling nice, simply told to fuck off, if he was feeling moody in any kinda way. It’d take getting to know him more to be able to tell the difference in his moods and how he felt, but that was a pretty good indicator of when he could approach him about something personal and when he couldn’t.

Almost as soon as he’d closed his mouth on offering that reassurance, Rob couldn’t bite back that innate urge to yawn. It was starting to get a bit late, especially after making a two-hour drive from Philadelphia and chasing after a rugrat for a few hours. But even the younger brunette seemed to finally be getting a bit tired, so he wasn’t surprised by that since they’d both gotten up early. Pushing himself up off the couch, he told him that he was gonna lock up and head off to bed, but he was free to stay up as long as he wanted to. All he asked was that he keep it down till he headed off to bed, and try not to make much noise as he headed upstairs so he wouldn’t wake Zak or Lynda.

Nodding since he was still a bit iffy about sleeping in strange surroundings, Richie just asked that he leave the Light least likely to bother the others on for him. Since he was unfamiliar with the house’s layout, he didn’t wanna bump into something and have that wake anyone up, which was why he made that request. Luckily, the older brunette understood and Returned the nod as he headed into the foyer with a soft _Night, Richie_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short and more of a filler chapter than not, but it certainly throws a few curveballs! LOL! I Intend the next chapter to be longer– _way_ longer–but we'll have to see how that goes once I get started on it...  
> ~Firefly


	6. Five

After spending the weekend at his home in Mechanicsburg–which also included a quick trip to the restaurant he owned and ran alongside his cousin–Rob was back in Philadelphia. He’d sifted through his numerous books about Paganism and boxed up the ones that he thought’d be the most useful so he could take them with him. Getting Bluesta help go through them’d serve him better and no doubt be quicker than trying to do it on his own, considering that there were several.

Even as they were unpacking a few of them early Moon’s Day Morn, he told him to keep his eye out for just about anything. Whether he thought something was stupid or not, if it seemed like it might fill those holes in his theory, he wanted him to speak up about it. There was no telling what may or may not apply to this particular set of cases, even if it came from an Element other than Water.

Settling into the chair he’d claimed in the previous two weeks, the oldest brunette cracked open a book he’d owned for several Years. Aptly entitled _Elemental Witch,_ it covered various aspects of all four of the physical Elements he’d spoken of before. Everything from the general personality of someone ruled by one of those four Elements down to associated types of magick and Lore was printed within its pages. Granted, it didn’t include _everything_ ever associated with those four Elements–after all, it didn’t really talk about Dragons and something known amongst practitioners as _Draconian magick_ –but it still held the possibility of turning up something that proved to be useful.

Rob decided to start with _Earth_ since many considered it the first Element when one didn’t include Spirit in the list. He kept an ear out for the next-to-youngest brunette, who’d settled in the corner to attempt meditating again since he’d decided that he wanted to learn about Grounding and Centering as he flipped pages. Once he finally got to the part that was entitled _Earth Witch Lore,_ he actually started reading, his Intent being to move on to the _Water Witch Lore_ afterward. This section started with _Crossroads,_ and he just barely got through it–short though it was–before the door banged open, startling him from his reading.

“C’mon, guys–we just got an emergency call the Chief’s wanting us to join in on!” Bret panted.

“All right, all right–we’re coming, man,” the youngest brunette said, bookmarking his page. “Keep your drawers on, ’cuz none of us wanna see your ass.”

“Ya never know, Blues– _I_ might wanna,” Rob chuckled, gently rubbing the younger Medium’s back.

“Dude, just–fuck me, shut up while you’re still ahead!” the shorter blonde laughed.

“Hey, we could use some humor and maybe just a hint of Calm right now,” he retorted with a grin, which vanished as he turned his attention back to Richie. “Deep breaths, kiddo.”

“I feel like somebody’s ripping my brain to shreds,” the next-to-youngest brunette veritably whimpered.

“That’s why I said we need a lil bit of Calm,” he told him. “Ya got ripped outta your trance a lil _too_ quick, but there’s ways of getting your head back on straight–it’s just gonna take some Time.”

“Hopefully, it won’t be accompanied by _too_ bad of a headache,” Richie grumbled, reaching up to massage his temples.

“Sometimes, but not always,” the older brunette admitted. “Behave and play nice, and I’ll show ya just how magick my hands can be–and I don’t mean that in terms of spell work _or_ in a dirty sense.”

“Oh, sure ya don’t, Bobby,” Bret chuckled, holding the door open for them.

“If I’d wanted to make a move on him, I know where he was sleeping this weekend,” Rob retorted, pausing to snatch up something as if it were a second Thought.

“Yeah, in your guest room where your mother and son woulda heard everything,” the shorter blonde snickered.

“Down on the couch, actually,” he shot back. “And it woulda quickly been moved to _my_ room, which’s soundproof.”

“Guys, shut up and quit reminding me of something I haven’t had in way too long,” the next-to-youngest brunette said as they headed outta the precinct they were headquartered in.

All of them burst into laughter as they headed out to what they were calling the _Ghost Coach,_ an RV that Rikki’d bought for when he and Bret were working cases. Only the oldest brunette knew for a fact that he was just as gay, which was something he wasn’t gonna rat him out on. He was also the only one who knew that it’d been a while since he’d last gotten laid, and while he was able to make do with his engagement to his right hand, he was definitely more than a lil needy right now.

Settling into the kitchenette of the _Ghost Coach,_ Rob pulled out what he’d grabbed on their way outta their headquarters. It turned out to be what looked like a bag of rocks, which was actually the start of another tumbled Stone collection. Filled with various Protection Stones, he’d gotten them while he was out running a couple errands since he knew a couple placesta get high-quality Stones most others wouldn’t ever find. He’d told the next-to-youngest brunette that he’d do such a thing at the first opportunity, if he was that serious about going on more of these investigations. Besides, they’d be good for him to have, even when he _wasn’t_ on an investigation–Spirits wouldn’t stop coming to him, just ’cuz he took a _Day off,_ after all.

Richie was glad to see that he’d kept his word as he took the lil bag and dumped out its contents, letting them lay in his palm so he wouldn’t drop them. The oldest brunette picked up each one as he identified it, pointing out lil things that’d help him remember which one was which. For example, Jet and Obsidian looked almost identical, so he told him to pay attention to the weight when he picked them up. Since it was actually petrified Wood, Jet was a lot lighter than Obsidian, which was actually hardened Lava from a Volcanic eruption. Paying attention to that kinda shit’d make memorizing which was which a lot easier for him since he was new to any form of Witchcraft. It’d certainly helped him when he’d first gotten into Crystal Healing around the age of thirteen, that was for damn sure.

Looking up so they were able to make eye contact, the older brunette admitted that he’d gotten a bad feeling about this particular case as they were walking out. That was what’d reminded him of the lil sachet he’d hidden in his pocket before they left Mechanicsburg very early that Morn. He got the feeling that they were both gonna need all the Protection they could get, and that feeling’d prompted him into grabbing it on his way out the door. It was for that reason that–even if he just kept it in his pocket–he wanted him to add a Pentacle to the cross he insisted on wearing.

“Better to have all the Protection possible and not need it than to need it and not have it, just like any other weapon,” he told him.

“Hey, I can live with adding it to my cross,” the next-to-youngest brunette chuckled, slipping the chain over his head.

Rob started to voice an agreement when his eyes glazed over, which made him make a hand motion to the blondes. “Shut up–he’s getting something.”

“Here’s his notebook,” the shorter blonde said, keeping his volume soft as he handed it over along with a pen.

Nodding, he laid the items on the table in front of his apprentice, whose expression suddenly shifted into something he couldn’t quite define.

“No–nonono!” Richie veritably screeched.

“Richie, look at me!” the oldest brunette ordered, reaching out to gently cup his face.

He seemed to try fighting him for a few moments before he completely snapped outta whatever trance he’d slipped into.

“Deep breaths, kid,” Rob said, his voice taking on more of a hypnotic tone. “Get yourself Centered again, then tell me whatcha Saw.”

“There’s no Centering myself–not from this,” the next-to-youngest brunette told him, not meaning to snap. “Not when I just watched my parents die after the fact.”

“Wait, say what?” Even the blondes’ jaws dropped up front when he said that.

“Mom was trying to get Dad to the ER when he started having trouble breathing,” Richie explained. “Something that looked kinda like an Animal, but at the same Time no Animal I’ve ever seen, darted out in front of her car.”

“Some kinda Animal?” Blues looked just as confused as everybody else.

“If I’d to describe it, I’d say something along the lines of a _chupacabra_ or something,” he huffed. “Fuckin’ creepy lil bastard that I never wanna see again, not even in a Vision.”

“And you’re sure it was your mom’s car?” Rikki asked from the driver’s seat.

“If we get to where we’re going and I don’t identify the license plate or something, I’ll eat my own foot,” the next-to-youngest brunette swore.

Nobody else got a chanceta ask him anything else about what he’d Seen before they pulled up at the site of where the emergency call’d come from–or rather, pretty closeta it. There were several police cruisers surrounding what appeared to be the remains of a crashed car, whose front End was pretty much shoved back into the dash. It certainly wasn’t a pretty sight for anyone to lay eyes on, and they all hoped that it turned out to be the car of anyone except Richie’s mother.

As they approached the still-steaming wreckage once they’d disembarked the _Ghost Coach,_ part of them was surprised when the aforementioned man gasped, but another part wasn’t. Since there was no getting to the glove box so they could fish out the registration, he begged the nearest patrol officer to run the plates. He was almost beyond desperate to know who the car belonged to, praying that his Vision wasn’t the slightest bit true.

Unfortunately, running the plates proved that the car–or what was left of it–belonged to a Georgine Kotzen, whose address was listed as being a few miles away. Rob was quick to catch his apprentice when his knees buckled and he started to go down with a heart-wrenching sob that startled the cop in front of them. Dragging him against his chest, he told the man to just follow the two of them, shooting a Dark look at the others when they made to follow. He didn’t need or want them antagonizing the poor kid just for the sake of a Ghost hunt, ’cuz this was no laughing matter.

“Um, I hate to, but can I ask why your friend just burst into tears like a lil kid?” the cop asked once they and his partner were locked on the _Ghost Coach_.

“As much as I wanna be gentle right now, prolly better to be blunt,” he sighed, gently rocking him as he cried into his shirt. “This is Richie, and–well, to be frank, Georgine was his mother.”

Both cops’ eyes widened in shock.

“I’ve been helping him with some psychic abilities he’s had since childhood, but hasn’t ever been able to really utilize,” the oldest brunette explained. “We discovered that he’s a talent we’re calling _remote viewing_ –meaning that he can See places and accurately describe them as if he’s standing right in front of them, but from miles away.”

“Jesus Christ,” the cop’s partner breathed.

“We weren’t given any details about the emergency call the Chief wanted us to join in on,” Rob continued. “The blondes and I’ve known each other since high school–they know I prefer going in blind in every way possible, so they don’t tell me shit.”

“Which means that if ya were present and could hear, they wouldn’t have told young Mr. Kotzen, either,” he mused, nodding.

_“Mmm hmm.”_ He nodded as he continued rocking his apprentice. “But on our way over here, he lapsed into the trance he usually does when he starts having one of those _remote viewing_ Visions.”

Both cops settled in the small booth seat across from them in the RV’s kitchenette, gently prompting the next-to-youngest brunette to look up at them. Richie clearly didn’t wanna, but he managed to walk them through the Vision that’d overcome him on the short Journey from the precinct. He somehow managed to go into more detail than he’d done with his friends, which included that he’d Heard a nasty, inhuman growl at the same Time he’d Seen that Creature. Not only that, but the Creature’s eyes’d been glowing a deep, evil-looking crimson when it’d appeared in his Vision and all but made eye contact with his parents.

Neither of the cops seemed to know what to make of his statement, and they weren’t quite sure if it was affected by his obvious grief. After all, folks who were mourning–especially this soon after such an unexpected, traumatic loss–didn’t tend to make a whole lotta sense. Then again, they didn’t know this young man and how advanced his abilities already were, so their bewilderment and skepticism made sense.

Able to tell that he’d had enough for the moment, Rob gently brought an End to their questioning since he hadn’t actually witnessed the accident, just a Vision of it after the fact. If they kept badgering him right now, they weren’t gonna do anything but worsen his already-fragile mental state, which was the last thing he wanted to see. Finally coming to terms with the fact that he was a Medium was already hard enough for him–now having to go through the loss of both his parents at once wasn’t helping that. Continued questioning with everything that was currently piled onto his figurative plate–and what was gonna join it in the very near Future–might be the straw that broke the Camel’s back, so to speak.

The cops nodded, thanked the next-to-youngest brunette for his Time, and assured him that they’d follow up once they knew anything else. Once they’d interviewed any other witnesses, hopefully they’d be able to tell him whether anything’d actually run out in front of his parents. Somebody else mighta actually seen the thing he claimed to’ve seen in his Vision, and not just ’cuz they were a Medium in their own right. Even though it seemed a bit far-fetched to them, maybe there really _had_ been some kinda Animal that ran out in front of them.

“It’ll be much appreciated, I’m sure,” the oldest brunette said. “Lemme give ya my number, too, just in case he heads back out to Mechanicsburg with me.”

“Ya said you’d just met recently, though,” the first cop they’d come across mused.

“And we did, but I’m not gonna leave a man who just lost his parents in a freak, tragic accident and doesn’t really know how to cope with his own abilities alone,” Rob retorted, scribbling out his home phone number and his name. “That’s asking for Disaster to strike as much as letting ya continue to question him.”

_“Touché,”_ his partner agreed with a nod. “If you’re comfortable with inviting him back to your home, who’re we to stop ya?”

“Had him there just this weekend, and it seemed to go well enough,” he admitted. “Not saying he’d move out there long-term, but my guest room’s open for as long as he needs or wants it.”

Nodding, the pair Wished them both well before heading out, the scrap of paper he’d ripped outta Richie’s notebook in the first cop’s hand. The oldest brunette simply held his new, young friend, one hand squeezing his shoulder and upper arm while the other rubbed his back Soothingly. In a way, it was kinda like Comforting a young child, which was bringing out his inner mommy since he didn’t like seeing him hurting.

Eventually, the others joined them on the _Ghost Coach,_ each one of them gently rubbing his back or squeezing his shoulder as they offered their condolences. Not even Bret–who was usually a master of words–was quite sure what to say to him, which was completely understandable. After all, what could anyone really say to him that’d be very Comforting after witnessing his parents’ tragic, untimely Deaths like he had? They wouldn’t have been surprised, if he’d looked up with a glare and maybe even a growl, or if he’d simply reached out and slapped them for even trying to Comfort him.

Rob wasn’t surprised when the poor guy finally sighed and wiped his eyes with a sniffle before saying he wanted to go home. As good as he was at reading Energy, he could already tell that he wanted to pack more than he’d need for just a weekend away, which gave him a pretty good idea of what he wanted. Only Time’d tell whether he Ended up wanting to move to Mechanicsburg with him, but he’d meant what he’d said about his guest room being open.

Left with few other choices, Rikki simply nodded and moved to head to the driver’s seat so he could fire up the _Ghost Coach_. In a way, he kinda felt like his heart was breaking for the kid as he shoved the key into the ignition, and he was sure the others felt the same. As sensitive to such things as he was, he’d no doubt that the oldest brunette was really feeling like that right about now. But the other thing he was sure the group who made up the paranormal team’d agree on was that he hoped they found out exactly what’d killed his parents, and soon. He’d absolutely no doubt that _something’d_ run out in front of their car, and he got the feeling that it wasn’t human, whether it was alive or dead.

After packing up the majority of the belongings he actually wanted to keep, Richie loaded his last box into his and Rob’s cars. The oldest brunette’d already said that he could move in with him, if he wanted to–maybe not aloud, but it was all over his chosen phrasing and his Energy. He didn’t wanna remain in his childhood home, even though he loved the place, now that his parents were both dead and gone.

While they’d been packing his belongings, he’d revealed that he and his sister didn’t speak anymore, ’cuz she’d jumped on the bandwagon of him being bat-shit crazy. Dana just couldn’t accept that he was actually a Medium, which was part of the reason he’d been unnecessarily medicated as a child. Once she’d moved outta their childhood home, she’d kept in touch with their parents and would visit for the holidays, but that was it. She acted like she didn’t even have a baby brother outside those Times, even going so far as to ask _Richie, who?_ when anybody’d mention him.

“I can’t even fathom Butch and Patty acting like that, if they weren’t Mediums, too,” Rob winced.

“Be gladja can’t and don’t have to deal with that,” he grumbled. “It’s that very behavior that’s making me say I’m selling this place without bothering to get in touch with her about it first.”

“Richie, I gotta ask–did your parents have a will or anything else of the sort?” the older brunette asked. “’Cuz if they didn’t, she can easily contest that line of thinking in court, which’s gonna burn your ass.”

Richie merely glared as he flipped open a picture hanging on his wall, which proved to be hiding a safe behind it. After a few twists and turns of the knob, he opened the door of said safe and reached in, his hand Returning to view with a sheaf of papers. Deeper in the safe, there was what appeared to be various family heirlooms, mostly what he’d guess was Antique jewelry. But he was more interested in the paperwork he’d pulled out, which he spread out across his bed so they could both see it.

“I think this answers that question well enough,” the younger brunette told him, pointing out one sheet in particular.

Picking it up so he could read it better, Rob realized it was the very document he’d asked about–and that it was even notarized. “Yeah, it definitely does.”

“Read the fine print, and you’ll see who this house’s supposed to go to,” he told him.

“Well, unless I suddenly forgot how to read English, I’m seeing the name _Richard D. Kotzen, Jr.,”_ the older brunette said as he looked up.

“That’d be me, the _D_ standing for Dale,” Richie told him. “That’s why my dad always went by _Rich, Sr._ –so folks could tell us apart.”

“Not an uncommon occurrence with a Senior and a Junior,” he mused. “Not that I ever Intend to do that to any Future sons I have, whether I father or carry them–I hate my middle name.”

“It can’t be as bad as Dale,” the younger brunette said, managing the first smile all Day since before his Vision in the _Ghost Coach_.

“You’re right, ’cuz it’s worse,” Rob laughed. “Mama coulda at least gave me the middle name _Harold,_ but no–she stuck with Harry.”

“Oh, God!” he cackled, momentarily doubling over. “Okay, yeah–no contest there, man. None at all, not even a lil bit.”

“Well, let’s get all this packed up, too,” the older brunette told him once they’d both Calmed down. “We don’t need to be losing such important documentation, if you’re really Intent on selling this place.”

“What’s the point of keeping such a big house for just one person?” Richie asked, gathering up all the paperwork. “That’d be as stupid as you living in your house by yourself.”

“Can’t say I disagree there,” he answered. “Too many Spacesta heat and cool, or to have to trip breakers for if I didn’t wanna pay higher electric and gas bills ’cuz of that.”

With the paperwork all gathered up and put back in its proper order, the younger brunette tucked it safely away in his messenger bag. It was gonna be in the floorboard of his front seat on the drive back to Mechanicsburg, and he couldn’t think of a safer placeta put it. Sure, his parents’ attorney’d a copy of everything, but he got the feeling that rat bastard would be too easily paid-off by his sister to conveniently lose it.

It wasn’t long afterward that the pair climbed into their respective cars, both ready to head out and start their roughly two-hour drive. Despite the melancholy feeling lingering in the very Air, Rob couldn’t wait to get back home, even with his new tenant, of sorts. Actually, if he were honest with himself, that very sadness–which was thick enough to be cut with a knife–was prolly why he was so anxiousta get back home. Having to watch his new friend go through the hell of losing his parents made him that much more grateful that his own mother–not to mention his baby boy–was still alive.

Twin sighs rang out as they headed over toward Highway Thirty, which they’d take till it intersected with Interstate Eighty-Three outside York. From there’d they’d cut back North till they came up to the exit for Highway Five-Eighty-One a few miles outside Mechanicsburg, not far from the banks of the Susquehanna River. Neither one of them really wanted a longer trip or to add extra mileage to their cars, but at the same Time, neither were willing to pay an arm and leg in tolls along the Penn Turnpike.

Richie knew this was definitely the start of a New Life for him as he followed the older brunette down the unfamiliar route, careful to keep just enough Space between them to avoid getting into a wreck of his own. He was leaving behind everything he’d ever known and loved since the only ones who’d ever loved him in the slightest–or at least, _acted_ like they had–were now dead and gone. From here on out, he knew he was gonna be on his own, as far as having any family to rely on went, and he was okay with that. A smile curved his lips slightly as he thought about how his new friends–Rob, in particular–apparently weren’t gonna let him feel like he was completely alone again, which was something he was thankful for. In fact, he was so thankful that he decided to bury his attraction to the older brunette just to avoid ruining their budding friendship.

However, what he didn’t know as they made the drive back to said man’s house was that it wasn’t just their budding friendship that made him do this. In fact, it wasn’t even entirely the fact that he’d just lost his parents and no doubt needed the help and support of somebody that cared about him. Even if he didn’t admit it for a while yet, Rob was definitely attracted to the younger brunette, despite his typical preference for guys that were older than him. While he’d no doubt have to wait a while and allow him a relatively proper amount of Time to grieve, he fully Intended to start showing him just how interested he was.

But the trick to that was gonna be showing him without scaring him off, even _after_ he’d been allowed his Time to grieve.


	7. Six

By the Time they made it to Mechanicsburg, Rob and Richie were more than a lil exhausted and not really feeling up to doing a bunch of unloading. Given what a Day the poor younger brunette’d had, his older companion decided it was a better idea to just park their cars in the garage and do that part tomorrow. At least then, they could start fresh, which’d no doubt serve them in better stead since they’d two car loadsta get upstairsta the guest room.

The second they walked through the door that connected the garage to the hall that essentially connected the dining room to the kitchen, Richie was all but ambushed. Lynda wrapped her arms around him in that typical motherly embrace that one’d offer a young child, and Zak latched himself to his leg. It seemed the boy was taking care not to practically nuzzle his crotch, but at the moment, he couldn’t have cared less if that’d happened. With his mind all over the place, he was more than a lil grateful for something that essentially pulled him back to Reality. No doubt just these simple embraces’d help Ground and Center him again, which was why he wrapped one arm around the middle-aged woman, his other hand resting on the toddler’s head.

“Ya don’t have to talk to any of us till you’re ready, but don’t bottle it up forever, child,” she said, pulling back enough to see him clearly as she cupped his cheek.

“I–” the younger brunette started, only to be gently cut off.

“Mama knows more than she’ll ever let on to, just like I tend to,” Rob said from behind him. “No doubt she’s already figured out you’re going through a rough patch, even if she doesn’t know why.”

“I felt it as soon as I felt your cars at the End of the street,” the middle-aged woman chuckled. “Something involving his parents, but other than that, he’s too scattered to get a good read on it.”

“Holy shit,” Richie breathed, his eyes widening as they finally parted, the boy still clinging to his leg.

“Your choice whether either of us tell her more since she’s already figured out that much, kid,” her son told him.

“After Zak’s in bed,” he sighed. “He doesn’t need the details.”

“Demon,” Zak said, taking even his mama by surprise. “Killed chu mommy and daddy.”

Even the older brunette wasn’t too sure what to say to that as he shared a look with his companion, then with his mother, before looking back down at him.

“It borked chu mommy’s car.” The toddler’s voice held a decisive note as he nodded once.

“Borked?” the younger burnette asked, cocking a brow.

“Cut him some slack, man,” Rob chuckled. “He’s only three, so he halfway speaks his own language sometimes.”

He simply shrugged, knowing he’d a point.

“But when he says _borked,_ or any other variant, he means that something’s broken,” he explained.

_“Ahhhh.”_ Richie nodded, then gently pried the boy off his leg so he could kneel down. “Yeah, whatever Mom saw definitely broke her car, kiddo–there’s no fixing it, for sure.”

“Chu mommy and daddy otays,” Zak told him, his voice still holding a decisive, Sagely note too old for his Years. “Dey’s in Summaland naow.”

The younger brunette couldn’t help looking confused, even as he hefted the boy up so they could at least head to the living room. As they headed down the hall, Rob told him to think of Summerland kinda like he’d think of Heaven as having been described. It was one of many Pagan Afterlives that ranked on the positive side, so it was more of a catch-all term than it wasn’t. One of the most apt ones that came to mind was the Elysian Fields outta Greek Mythology, where folks were said to live in Peace and enjoy doing whatever they wanted–even holding down the same job as they did in Life–for Eternity.

Richie couldn’t help a smile as he thought about it like that, ’cuz that was pretty much what he’d been told Heaven was ever since he was about this boy’s age. No matter the name slapped on it by any given culture, all he wanted was for his parentsta be able to rest in Peace. Something told him that wasn’t actually gonna happen till after they’d figured out what his mother’d seen before their wreck, but he’d Hope all the same.

Considering that Zak seemed to’ve already figured out every last lil detail of what’d happened, he heaved a sigh as they all settled on the couch and Love seat. He couldn’t help choking up as he admitted that the boy’d gotten it spot-on, which was why he originally hadn’t wanted to explain anything in front of him. At such a young age, he didn’t deserve to be scarred for Life by something like that, but it seemed he wasn’t the slightest bit fazed. If anything, he seemed to be latching on to the part about his parents being in a better place–and by that, he meant at least not being in agony, or sedated in a hospital bed. While he still didn’t like the fact that he’d figured out that much so soon, he’d prefer he latch on to the positive aspect over the negative.

Lynda pulled him into her arms again as Rob headed back to the garage for a couple minutes, knowing he needed the Comfort. Even though she obviously wasn’t _his_ mother, she still radiated that motherly Love all the same, and no doubt that’d help him through his grieving process. He seemed to be grateful for it as he allowed himself to lean against her, a slight smile crossing his face again when her grandson forced his way into his lap. At least he wasn’t pushing them away, even though she could sense that he wanted to, as if needing the Space and knowing he’d get it later.

“Your clothes’re gonna be in the guest room–well, I guess I should be saying _your_ room,” the older brunette said as he reappeared with a couple boxes.

“Works for me,” Richie responded, lifting his head from the middle-aged woman’s shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

“Ya don’t have to thank me,” he chuckled. “We agreed that it’d be better to wait till Morn to unload everything, but I don’t think you’re gonna be like me and willing to run around nekkid _all_ the Time.”

“Jeez, I’m moving into a house full of nudists?” the younger brunette laughed.

“We’re Pagan, ya nut–clothes’re for squares, as far as we’re concerned!” Rob retorted with a laugh of his own. “Besides, Sky-clad’s always better for spell work, so why wouldn’t it be for anything else?”

“Okay, never heard the term _Sky-clad_ before,” he admitted. “But I guess it works, if it’s supposed to mean _nekkid_ the same way _birthday suit_ does.”

“It does, child,” Lynda chuckled as her son headed upstairs with the boxes he’d brought in. “Just another way of saying the same thing.”

“Can’t say that’s an altogether bad thing,” Richie admitted. “Not like the way my Morn went, for sure.”

Nodding her agreement, the middle-aged woman finally got up to go start dinner for everybody, knowing that it needed to be kept simple. It’d no doubt been a long Day for both men–more so for one than the other–and they prolly wouldn’t want anything too complicated. Something that was gonna take a while to make prolly wasn’t the way to go either, which was why she decided on a simple pot of sketti.

The younger brunette contented himself with entertaining Zak for the moment, the boy seeming excited to be able to show some of the things he’d learned to someone new. He was listening as Intently as he seemed to be as the boy showed him an obviously-handmade poppet that he swore was what a Faerie actually looked like. Apparently, the Fae were nothing like they were depicted by the Peter Pan character Tinkerbell–at least, when it came to their personalities. Some could be a bit temperamental and even jealous, but they usually weren’t as malicious as that lil winged bitch was.

In the middle of the toddler’s explanation, Rob stepped back into the living room, a smile crossing his face as he took in the scene. Neither of them heard him coming since he’d made a pit stop in his own bedroom to kick off his boots and empty his pockets. Since he’d even pulled off his socks and was now completely barefoot, the only way they realized they was in the doorway was when his baby boy felt his Energy and looked up from his explanation with a bright smile.

Only a few minutes later, they were settled around the lil table in the breakfast nook, Zak settled in between both men. He still wasn’t too keen on using his booster seat, but at least he wasn’t fighting them and throwing his food across the kitchen again. But considering what Lynda’d decided to make for dinner, there was no doubt he was gonna need a bath before he was put to bed. Just a few bites into the meal, his face and hands were already covered in sketti sauce, which was starting to stain his lil face orange. It seemed to amuse the younger brunette, which was definitely a good thing after a Day as stressful and Emotionally draining as this one, something they were all grateful for.

Not long after finishing dinner and helping to clean up, Richie’d headed upstairsta sift through the clothes that the older brunette’d brought upstairs for him. His Intent wasta run a quick load through the washer once everybody’d gotten their Nightly bath or shower, then move them to the dryer. Wrinkles weren’t exactly a big deal to him, so letting them sit in the dryer till he got up once it’d run its cycle wasn’t anything he was willing to worry about.

As he stepped outta his new bedroom to head for the bathroom straight across from the upper half of the L-shaped staircase, he heard what sounded like a roar. Momentarily startled, he paused in what amounted to a three-way crossroads between the upstairs bedroom doors, wondering where the Sound was coming from. He hoped he wasn’t about to encounter the demon that’d killed his parents just that Morn, that was for certain.

Once he’d passed the bathroom and laundry room doors, the younger brunette realized that what he was hearing wasn’t actually a roar. Well, it kinda was, but that was ’cuz he was hearing the jets of a whirlpool tub–and it sounded like it was coming from the master suite. Part of him didn’t wanna invade Rob’s private quarters, but considering what he’d experienced that Day, there was another part that wanted to check on him. He didn’t wanna see harm befall anyone else that he even remotely cared about, which was the only reason he actually entered the master bedroom.

Said bedroom was actually a lot more spacious than he’d have thought it’d be, even though it was deemed the master for a reason. Across from the bedroom doorway, a King-size bed Dominated the wall, a decently big nightstand on either side of it. There was a dresser that _had_ to’ve been just as wide settled against the wall across from the bed’s foot, but there didn’t appear to be a closet anywhere in sight. Richie thought that was a bit strange, considering that the only other door in the room obviously led to the master bathroom. He knew that much from seeing the carpet morph into Stone tile, not to mention catching a glimpse of the sliding glass shower door. It seemed weird that there wouldn’t be a closet, but he shrugged it off as he headed for that bathroom door–which was wide open–to knock on it.

“If your name’s not Richie, ya better hope ya like Sage and can outrun spell Fire,” he heard the older brunette call out immediately after he knocked.

“Good thing my name _is_ Richie then, huh?” he laughed, making sure he was able to hear him over the roar he was now certain came from the tub.

“Whatcha need, kid?” Rob asked, that roar dying seconds later.

“I heard that roar when I came outta my room to grab a shower, and–well, I don’t really wanna say what it sounded like at first,” the younger brunette admitted as he took a couple steps into the bathroom.

“Definitely not anything negative, if that’s whatcha were thinking,” he chuckled. “Just the jets of my tub since I just felt the need tonight.”

“Then I’ma leave ya to it and grab that shower,” Richie told him, turning to head back out.

“Or ya can join me,” the older brunette said, laughter that he was obviously biting back coloring his voice. “Up to you and what you’re comfortable with since the tub’s more than big enough for two.”

He momentarily choked on his own spit, much to the amusement of his new friend. “You’re sure about that?” he asked once he’d cleared his airways and caught his breath.

“Wouldn’t have made the offer, if I wasn’t,” Rob laughed. “’Cuz once I get outta here, I’m going to bed, so you’re gonna be shit-outta-Luck on having jets tonight, if ya don’t.”

Thinking about it for a moment, the younger brunette nodded to himself. “As long as you’re sure, I’m game since I just wanna relax.”

Another soft laugh rang out, along with the Sound of Water sloshing gently as he took another couple steps into the bathroom. Rounding the wall that’d been on his left–which he realized musta been the closet he hadn’t seen in the bedroom–he spotted the giant tub. Settled between the other closet wall and the exterior one that housed the only window for the bathroom, it was most definitely big enough for two. For that matter, both men could fit and prolly even manage to settle Zak between them, if they’d really wanted to that badly.

The older brunette was settled with his feet propped up on the corner of the tub closest to the closet door, a mound of bubbles blocking his body from view. No doubt they’d been stirred up by the jets that were momentarily turned off, but it was still a bit of a surprise. Richie hadn’t thought he’d be one for bubble baths, even though he was a gay man with quite a few more feminine qualities and tendencies.

Brushing off the mild Anxiety he felt about doing such a thing, he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and hauled it up over his head. He wasn’t ashamed of his body in the slightest, even though he was certainly on the skinny side, so that wasn’t really feeding his Anxiety. No, more like it was the fact that he’d never showered with anyone else unless one counted showering with either of his now-deceased parents as a child. He’d never once showered or bathed with any of his exes, something he considered almost more intimate than the actual act of sex, itself. Maybe he felt that way ’cuz while joining a pair of bodies and swapping fluids was definitely intimate, there was something _more_ intimate about trusting someone not to start anything he didn’t want.

Rob sat still so he wouldn’t trip him as he finally turned to head for the tub since he’d stripped in front of the vanity on the other side of the tub. He couldn’t help admiring his body, especially the fluid Grace with which he moved and the way the sinews of his arms, legs, and torso tugged with every step he took. Watching him step over both the edge of the tub and his own legs was certainly a pleasant experience for him, considering it put his crotch on a beautiful display. The younger brunette was certainly well-endowed–maybe just as much as he was, himself–but he wasn’t gonna act on it by even saying anything about it.

Once he was settled next to him so that he was in the corner where he’d have two jets gently beating his lower back, he hit the button for the jets. Richie let out a pleasured groan that made him slump down a bit, clearly liking the sensation of those jets beating on the no doubt knotted muscles of his back. As he slowly sank down even lower, they pounded everything from his lumbar to about where his shoulder blades were. The only way he was gonna get them to beat on his upper back and shoulders was if he slipped entirely under the Water for however long he could hold his breath. After all, all four of the jets were so low on the sides of the tub that they were damn near on the bottom where they’d beat the aches outta one’s ass and thighs. Course, he seemed to be enjoying what he was getting as it was, which was definitely a good way to End the Day.

“Fuck, I needed this,” the younger brunette sighed, slipping down even further so he could prop his feet up on the other side of the tub’s faucet.

“Prolly more than I did, and I definitely needed it,” Rob chuckled.

_“Mmm,_ whatever ya dumped in here before I came outta my room’s putting me to sleep, too,” he veritably hummed, already starting to sound drowsy.

“I guess ya could say it’s my own take on Johnson’s _Bedtime_ baby wash,” the older brunette admitted.

“Wait, really?” That seemed to wake Richie up a lil bit.

“I’ll get into better detail when we’re _not_ tired, but yeah–I make my own shower gear,” he told him. “Body washes, shampoos, conditioners–ya name it, I can make it.”

“Damn, that’s pretty impressive,” the younger brunette said.

“Not to mention a fuck-ton healthier, especially for kids.” Rob couldn’t help a sleepy grin. “It’s all-Natural, so there’s no preservatives or anything else that’s gonna irritate even the most sensitive skin in it.”

“Definitely not a bad thing, ’cuz my skin can be kinda sensitive sometimes,” he admitted. “Even better, if it puts me to sleep after a Day like today, too.”

“Then dunk yourself down, ’cuz the matching shampoo and conditioner’ll definitely help knock ya out,” the older brunette chuckled.

Nodding, Richie managed to slide down till his head was completely submerged, his eyes shut to avoid getting any soap in them. He was used to any other body wash or bubble bath being made with ingredients that’d burn one’s eyes, so that’s what he’d been expecting. To pop back up a minute or so later and what lil of the Water trickle down from his now-soaked hair _not_ burn his eyes was definitely a bit of a surprise.

A laugh bubbled up from the back of Rob’s throat as he reached outside the tub and grabbed a bottle from the floor. Passing it over to him, he told him that when he said this stuff was all-Natural, he wasn’t kidding around–none of the ingredients were gonna burn his eyes any more than they’d irritate his skin. Between that and having the ability to come up with his own scent combinations, that was why he preferred his homemade concoctions versus anything else. That, and they were often cheaper since he also knew how to make his own essential oils for those scent combinations, too.

The younger brunette veritably purred as squeezing a small amount of what turned out to be shampoo into his palm yielded more of the same sleep-inducing scent. He couldn’t quite figure out everything that was in it as he closed the lid, but he definitely caught the Lavender that seemed to be the main scent. Other than that, he couldn’t make any kinda judgment beyond the fact that it was flowery and relaxing, which was the perfect combination for bedtime.

Rinsing his hair of that particular concoction almost made Richie feel like he didn’t need its matching conditioner, but he still took the second bottle, anywhore. If his hair wasn’t as soft and easily-brushed as that of a baby just by the Time he climbed outta this tub, he didn’t know what it’d wind up being. This stuff already made it feel better to the touch than it did after using his typical shampoo, and he was definitely liking it. He was actually considering begging the older brunette to show him how he made this stuff so he could start making his own. But that was gonna have to wait, ’cuz first and foremost, he was exhausted and fading fast already–beyond that, he wanted his parents’ obvious murders solved. Once he’d gotten some sleep and figured out the answer to that Mystery–which’d prolly help with the rest of the cases–he’d worry about Natural shower gear and whatnot.

By the Time they’d finally finished up and gotten the conditioner rinsed outta his hair, the younger brunette was almost too exhausted to get out and dry off. Rob couldn’t help a soft chuckle as he helped him to his feet and managed to keep both of them from falling as they stepped out. At least drying off and dragging on their PJs was a relatively quick affair, given that they were both tired enough to sleep in the floor. That was the very reason why he wrapped an arm around his companion’s shoulders, letting him lean on him as he started out the bathroom door. He doubted he’d make it out to the hallway, let alone to his new room, so he was willing to let him crash in his bed for the Night.

He just hoped that Richie wouldn’t freak out in the Morn since he tended to be a cuddler and was bound to snuggle up to him in his sleep. There was only one way to find out, so the older brunette took a deep breath, shook off his Anxiety, and settled on what was typically his side of the bed when Zak was with him. Not long afterward, both were out like Lights–and it actually wasn’t him who snuggled up to his impromptu bed mate.


	8. Seven

Too early for his liking the next Morn, Richie woke with the remnants of a smile on his face, despite what’d happened the Day previous. He was more than enjoying the warmth that surrounded him like a cocoon, not to mention how soft the bed he wound up in was. If he were completely honest with himself and anyone who asked, it was almost like having slept and awoken on a literal Cloud.

But before he could even open his eyes, his nose registered an unfamiliar scent that was more than a lil pleasant. He couldn’t figure out what it was, let alone who or what it belonged to, but it was worth taking another deep breath with which to savor it. Cracking open his eyes once he’d let out that breath in a content sigh, he was quick to realize what the scent was and where it was coming from. It was certainly a bit unexpected, but that combined with the face still sleeping next to him reminded him of what’d happen the Night previous. Every lil memory from the Time he’d come outta his room to when he passed out came back to him a lil at a Time.

Gently brushing back the lil bit of hair that’d wound up in his face overnight, he couldn’t help a smile when Rob sighed contently in his sleep. The fact that he nuzzled his face into the gentle touch before settling back down was somehow even more endearing–and made him all the more attractive. But considering what’d just happened the Day previous and not knowing this man nearly well enough for his liking, the younger brunette was quick to shove that attraction deep into the back of his mind.

Another smile ghosted across his face as he allowed his thumb to gently stroke the cheek of the man still sleeping soundly beside him. However, Richie was forced to bite back laughter when he finally squirmed slightly, which resulted in a fairly distinct Sound from under the covers. It wasn’t very often that he stumbled across someone who was guilty of farting in their sleep–and as loudly as his bed mate had, at that. But he apparently hadn’t bitten back his laughter well enough, ’cuz moments later, the Chocolate orbs he was slowly falling for peeled open. Squirming again so he could push himself up enough to look at him resulted in a repeat of the same Sound, which made it even harder to bite back his laughter than it already was.

“Sorry about that,” the older brunette said, crimson suffusing everything from the collar of his tank top to his ridiculously high hairline.

“No need to apologize, man–it happensta the best of us,” he told him, unable to help a chuckle.

“There’s only one reason it happensta me,” Rob sighed, managing to push himself upright without letting loose again.

“Partook in too many Beans lately?” the younger brunette asked with a snicker.

“No, it means I’m fertile,” he answered as he tossed the covers off his legs. “And ready to jump even Blues, if it means getting some relief.”

“Damn, seriously?” Richie couldn’t help his surprise as he finally sat up and tossed the covers off his own legs.

“I get ridiculously gassy from the Time I ovulate till my period finally starts,” the older brunette told him, sounding a bit muffled since he’d disappeared into the bathroom. “Two weeks, give or take a Day or two, of constantly embarrassing myself and sometimes offending folks’ olfactory sense.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound like it’d be too much fun,” he agreed, waiting for him to finish up before taking his turn.

“At least I’m used to it since I’ve been like that ever since I hit puberty,” Rob chuckled, his face still a bit pink. “Doesn’t mean I’ve to like it, though.”

“No one ever saidja did,” the younger brunette laughed. “Just rest assured that I’m not gonna give a shit since it’s not like ya can help it.”

He couldn’t help the relieved, but somewhat shy smile that curved his lips at those words, which just made his face and neck turn red all over again. Richie simply chuckled and paused long enough to give him a hug before disappearing into the bathroom, which left him to find something to do with himself in the meantime. Like any other parent, he’d prolly go check on Zak and start dealing with the toddler, if he was already awake, while waiting for his bathroom to be freed up again.

As he tucked himself back into his PJ britches once he’d taken his Morn piss, he couldn’t help but feel the need for a shower. Even though he’d bathed with the older brunette before they went to bed, part of him just didn’t quite feel clean since baths never left him feeling as clean as a shower. Not only that, but even coffee wouldn’t stop him from still feeling groggy for a while, if he didn’t shower first thing in the Morn. However, the left him in need of clean clothes since he wasn’t too sure what today’s plans were, and he wasn’t about to leave the house in his PJs, if they were going anywhere.

It turned out that the toddler was still asleep, although Miss Lynda appeared to be up and already downstairs since her door was open. Rob said that she always slept with her door shut like he did, ’cuz it was one of their ways of putting up a boundary to at least the living. When their doors were open and they were in their rooms, one could enter–if they were closed, they’d bed have a damn good reason for even knocking.

Nodding, the younger brunette told him that he was gonna grab a shower to help get his brain in gear, and he couldn’t say he expected what he was told. He’d expected his new landlord, for lack of a better way to put it, to want some Time to himself while he could get it. To hear him invite him to join him again was definitely a surprise, but he couldn’t say that it wasn’t a pleasant one. After giving it a moment’s Thought, he nodded and told him that he still needed to go weed out some clean clothes, or he’d be offending folks’ olfactory senses–just in a different way. Soft laughter rang out as the older brunette agreed that they’d both be pretty odiferous, if they put on the same clothes as yesterday, despite having not been _too_ active.

“Another one of your homemade concoctions?” Richie asked with a chuckle as he reentered the bathroom a couple minutes later.

_“Mmm hmm.”_ He made sure to hum loud enough to be heard over the running Water since he’d already stepped into the shower.

“Well, whatever combination it is, it smells good,” the younger brunette said as he stripped. “Kinda makes me feel empowered, but hungry as hell since it’s so fruity.”

“The empowerment was Intentional,” Rob laughed, taking a step closer to the showerhead just long enough for him to step in behind him. “Now, making ya feel hungry–well, I’m not surprised, especially since we just got up.”

“Yeah, it _has_ been a while since dinner last Night,” he agreed, closing the door behind himself to keep Water from getting all over the floor so they wouldn’t slip. “And I definitely didn’t eat much since I wasn’t really hungry.”

“Hey, after a Day like yesterday, I’m not surprised,” the older brunette told him as they practically danced in a Circle so he could step under the spray. “It was a rough Day, so even Mama wasn’t surprised by your lack of an appetite.”

“Grief knows no bounds sometimes, I guess,” Richie sighed, tilting his head back as he soaked his hair.

“Something we know all too well, kid,” he agreed as he grabbed a specific bottle from one of the small shelves in the corner. “As long as it doesn’t become a long-term thing since you’re already skinny enough, we’re willing to let it slide at first since we know you’re going through a rough patch.”

“But if I start letting it turn into full-blown anorexia, you’re gonna tie me down and force-feed me, right?” the younger brunette asked, unable to help a chuckle.

“That, or cartcha off to a nuthouseta let _them_ deal with ya,” Rob laughed, handing him the bottle he’d grabbed.

“So, which one’s this?” he asked curiously.

“Shampoo,” the older brunette answered with a chuckle of his own. “Cinnamon, Orange, and Pomegranate, before ya ask.”

“Well, no fuckin’ Wonder it’s making me hungry _and_ feel empowered!” Richie laughed, squirting part of the bottle’s contents into his palm. “Course, I thought I was catching the first two.”

“Pomegranate’s good for long hair,” he told him, gently scratching at his scalp as he worked the homemade shampoo into a rich lather. “Figured that out after I started experimenting as a teen, ’cuz nothing else’d keep my hair from feeling like it was fried, even when it wasn’t.”

The younger brunette hummed as they traded places, which allowed him to lather up his own hair while Rob was rinsing his. He certainly couldn’t say that his hair wasn’t already feeling better after the more flowery concoction from last Night, and if this made it feel even better, he was definitely begging him to show him this particular Craft. Much like his compatriot, it was almost impossible to find anything that made his hair feel like anything but dry straw, which was why he generally didn’t switch shampoo brands.

By the Time he was ready to rinse out the shampoo, the older brunette’d grabbed another bottle, whose contents looked creamier than the shampoo. He figured it was prolly a matching conditioner as he tilted his head back outta habit, the hot Water cascading over him feeling Divine. With any Luck, he’d even have a matching body wash that made his flesh feel just as soft and smooth as it did right after shaving. Granted, it was only his face that felt that way since it wasn’t like he shaved anything else–just trimmed every once in a while for his own Sanity.

Rob was quick to hand him what was, indeed a bottle of homemade conditioner before reaching behind him for the third Time. His final target turned out to be the matching body wash he’d made, and he couldn’t say that he wasn’t looking forward to using it. Not even the scents making him hungry enough for his stomach to let out a soft growl could stop him from enjoying this part of his Morn routine.

It wasn’t long before the pair of brunettes were done with their shower, the bathroom more than a lil fogged from the steam. The older brunette simply grinned, waving a hand in the Air in front of him as he stepped forward to open the closet door in front of them. Almost immediately, the Air cleared and the condensation building up on the mirror and shower doors disappeared as if it’d never been there. Richie couldn’t help his brows rising to his own hairline as he watched him grab enough towels for both of them, two of them being put into his own hands. Course, he’d never seen any kinda magick performed in his Life, if one didn’t count watching a so-called magician pull a Rabbit outta a hat.

Laughing as he bent over to wrap one of the towels around his head, he admitted that one’d to be a pretty powerful Witch to be able to do even half the shit he did. Clearing the Air after fogging up the bathroom with a hot shower was pretty much a child’s parlor trick in comparison to _some_ of the shit he could do. Noticing the younger brunette’s confused look when he straightened and flipped the twisted towel back over his head, he couldn’t help a laugh.

As he let the second towel unroll itself so he could unfold it and dry off, Rob explained that magick wasn’t for the untrained or the faint of heart. While it could definitely be used for good–such as Healing a wound that wouldn’t Heal on its own, for whatever reason–it could be used to harm just as easily. Such an example’d be if he felt like choking somebody out, but didn’t wanna leave any telltale marks, like finger-shaped bruises. All he’d to do was let his Power encircle a person’s throat like a collar, and he could tighten it so it’d seem like they’d an asthma attack that made them pass out. If he wanted to get even more gruesome, he could make a scene outta the Stephen King novel and its accompanying movie, _Carrie,_ a Reality by making a person’s heart explode within their breast.

“That’s a fuckin’ terrifying Thought,” Richie admitted, unable to suppress a shiver as he dried off, despite the heat and humidity of the room.

“Dives too far into the _Black_ for my liking, though,” he told him, stepping back into the closet to grab his own clothes. “I toldja, I’ll dive into the _Gray_ and toe that fine line, but I’ll never cross it.”

“Oh, I remember ya saying that,” the younger brunette said. “I’m just saying that knowing ya _could_ do such a thing, if ya really wanted to, is enough to make me shit myself.”

“Hence why not very many folks’re dumb enough to mess with me,” Rob snickered, pulling on his boxers and jeans. “Either they take me at my word, see me in action, or they can simply _Feel_ it like we Feel presences when Spirits’re trying to get our attention.”

“Remind me to never, and I do mean _never,_ piss ya off enough to come after _me_ like that,” he chuckled, a slightly nervous note coloring his voice.

“I wouldn’t have offered up the guest room, if I thoughtcha were any kinda threat,” the older brunette said. “I’m usually more of an Empath than a Projector–meaning I tend to soak up Energy around me like a sponge versus pouring it out–so I can usually tell whether somebody’s gonna make me unleash _that_ side of myself or not.”

“Gotta say, it’d certainly be niceta have that ability, myself,” Richie mused, finally pulling on his own boxers and jeans as his compatriot pulled on a tank top.

“Ya might already have it and just not realize it,” he told him, grabbing a button-down off one of the hangers next to him. “A lotta Mediums do, and just never realize it without having it pointed out.”

“Really?” The younger brunette looked curious, but surprised as he fastened his fly.

“Well, you’re pretty effective at listening and Communicating–both with the Living _and_ the Dead–for starters,” Rob said as he buttoned his overshirt halfway. “Ya don’t seem to be fond of public places, like they overwhelm ya more than a lotta folks’d consider normal.”

“Definitely true on the public places part,” he agreed. “I’d rather just stay home than go out anywhere most of the Time.”

The older brunette chuckled as he moved to grab his hairbrush off the vanity, continuing by saying that he seemed to pick up on the Emotions, pains, illnesses, and stresses of others pretty well. Another thing he rattled off was that he seemed to be a bit on the unpredictable side, what with having a few mood swings and being kinda needy in a non-sexual way. He hadn’t noticed any sensitivity to TV, radio, and movies or anything else of the like as of yet, but he definitely seemed to be sensitive to the Chaos of Real Life whenever he was surrounded and otherwise immersed by it.

Richie grabbed his own hairbrush, which he’d brought in with his clothes, as he said that Empaths were also prone to illness, Death, and physical pain. Another thing about them was that they tended to radiate a magnetic Air of Trust, which often resulted in complete strangers spilling their gutsta them like they’d known each other all their Lives. Many Empaths were constantly fatigued, showed signs of addictive behavior, and were into Healing, holistic Health, and wellness on top of it.

In addition to all that, they tended to be curious types and sought the Truth more often than they didn’t, as well as tended to be interested in Spirituality and the Metaphysical. They also tended to be pretty Traditional, as in following Traditions handed down from long-ago people through various cultures. Empaths also had a tendency to be interested in their Ancestral lineage, ’cuz not only did they wanna know more about where they came from and how certain Traditions came about and were passed down, but they wanted to be able to continue the Tradition by passing it down to their own children. They were the ones who kept up with the family Trees, not to mention held onto things like photo albums and other family heirlooms.

Grabbing his toothbrush and the tube of toothpaste next to it, Rob said that most Empaths were also quiet achievers and strong leaders. They didn’t exactly like being put on the spot, but they’d an ability to remain focused, organized, and supportive like none other. Most were also quick-thinking types, and capable of Inspiring and motivating others with a poise hardly found in today’s population.

Empaths also tended to be Creative types, no matter the outlet their Creativity found–which could be anything from Crafting their own shower gear to Music and other forms of Art. They also loved Nature and Animals, usually preferring to see Animals live freely as opposed to keeping pets, and could feel the Cleansing properties of Water easily. Having a need for solitude like none other, often seeming bored, distracted, and a Daydreamer, and being a spontaneous adventure-seeker fond of Travel was another dead give away. Many couldn’t stand clutter, ’cuz it drove them to even more distraction than they were already prone to, and they tended to be rule-breakers. The older brunette laughed as he clarified that Empaths weren’t necessarily anarchists or anything even remotely similar, but they’d find ways of doing whatever they wanted to within reason.

“Like the general Fire Witch, they also tend to have a great enthusiasm for and appreciation of Life,” he said, holding off on brushing his teeth till he’d finished.

Richie nodded, having already started brushing his own, so he’d know he could continue.

“Most tend to be humanitarians, peacemakers, and mediators, too,” the older brunette told him. “Not necessarily to the point of being Tree-hugging hippies or anything, but I think ya get what I mean.”

Again, he nodded since he couldn’t exactly speak at the moment.

“Empaths also tend to be sensitive to Antiques, or vintage and secondhand things, ’cuz they can feel the Energy that often gets trapped in stuff like that,” Rob continued.

“No Wonder I don’t usually like that kinda stuff unless it’s a family heirloom,” the younger brunette said after spitting and rinsing out his mouth.

“Most tend to be lucid Dreamers, not to mention lovers, rather than fighters,” he chuckled.

“Definitely me on both counts,” Richie chuckled. “’Cuz I’ve had Dreams that felt so real, they were scary–even when they were _good_ Dreams–since I was a kid.”

“Another thing’s that Empaths tend to be problem-solving Visionary types,” the older brunette concluded. “Granted, that’s keeping with the mostly positive parts.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, cocking a brow curiously.

Rob held up a finger since he’d started brushing his teeth, that hand rising to grab his hair once he was ready to spit out the toothpaste. Once he’d rinsed the remains outta his mouth and straightened, he turned a once-again laser-intense gaze on his young apprentice. Just like with anything else in Life, with the good came the bad, with the Light came the Shadow–that was just how the Universe worked. Not even possibly being an Empath’d stop that–if anything, it seemed to make that kinda shit worse than it’d be for anyone else.

Generally speaking, Empaths’d a tendency of hiding the fact that they were overly-sensitive types that gave too much to others and needed to be left alone a lot. Their Love was extremely deep and strong–to the point that it almost knew no bounds–but they were often afraid of serious relationships. After all, they usually wound up a lot more invested than other involved parties, and therefore got hurt worse later on down the road.

Along with simply Knowing shit they shouldn’t seem to, they knew when they were being lied to, even when the liar thought they didn’t. They were far more Intuitive than they’d ever be given credit for, whether they were any form of Medium or not. He’d already covered being Animal- and Nature-loving introverts, so he moved on to the next topic in the list, which was that folks’d a bad tendency of using them for all they were worth. Richie couldn’t help a wince as he heard that, ’cuz he knew how it felt to be on the receiving End of that kinda shit all too well. No matter whether it was a friend using him for his Ice cream money as a kid or something more serious as an adult, he’d been there and done that already.

Many Empaths often had a hard Time setting boundaries–whether with the Living or the Dead–which made those aforementioned problems with relationships even worse. They were often sensitive to certain medications, as well as caffeine, and wound up with effects that others prolly didn’t suffer from as a result. And wrapping back around to knowing when someone was lying to them, they absolutely despised when that happened. Everything else he could think of, he’d already covered to some extent, and if there was one thing he hated as bad as a liar, it was being made to feel like a broken record.

“Hey, I can totally getcha on that one,” Richie chuckled as he managed to braid his hair. “I hate being made to feel like that, too.”

“Well, depending on how many of those traits ya feel like ya connect with or otherwise describe ya, I wouldn’t be surprised, if you’re an Empath, too,” the older brunette said. “’Cuz I embody damn near all those traitsta _some_ extent, and I’d be lying, if I said I _wasn’t_ an Empath.”

“Must make being every type of Medium known to man even harder,” he winced.

“Definitely doesn’t make it easier, that’s for sure,” Rob laughed. “C’mon, and let’s go get breakfast before we start trying to go cannibal on each other.”

“Sounds like a plan, even though human isn’t very tasty,” the younger brunette snickered. “Well, not outside certain circumstances, that is.”

“I’d rib ya about being a total perv, but I can be just as bad sometimes,” he chuckled. “Besides, you’re young, dumb, and horny–I’d be surprised, if ya _didn’t_ have the occasional pervy moment.”

“What can I say? Regardless of my sexuality, sex’s a need just like eating and breathing,” Richie said, unable to help a grin. “And it’s been too long since I got any action, regardless of my chosen partner’s gender.”

“Gods, but I know the feeling,” the older brunette told him. “Been forever since that Night Zak was conceived, which was the last Time I bothered with sex.”

“I’d ask if ya were serious, but I can tell easily enough by your tone and expression,” he mused.

“Well, sex tendsta sate me a lot better than you’d think,” Rob said as they headed toward the stairs. “And once the Morn sickness kicked in with Zak and my pregnancy advanced, either I wasn’t really feeling up to anything sexual, or I couldn’t even reach my crotch.”

The younger brunette winced again, knowing that the most likely way he’d have gotten off aside from in his sleep woulda been to hump the edge of his mattress or something. If he couldn’t reach his crotch, that prolly meant he couldn’t reach his own cock–and if that was the case, there was no way he was reaching something like a pussy. He definitely wouldn’t wanna be in that kinda bind, himself–it made more or less being engaged to his right hand seem like a far better alternative, that was for sure.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Richie pondered what he’d learned thus far as he watched his compatriot get to work on breakfast. Lynda seemed to be just as quiet as she nursed her coffee, apparently wanting to enjoy the Peace while she could. After all, things were no doubt to get loud and crazy once her grandson woke for the Morn, but that was just how Life with a toddler in the house went more often than not.

None of them breathed a word about what’d happened to his parents the Day previous, nor when he and the older brunette’d Return to Philadelphia. They were obviously _gonna_ have to go back eventually, if only so he could get closure for his parents’ untimely Deaths. But they didn’t necessarily have to go right immediately, even with other cases in the area that still needed to be solved. Not taking whatever he felt was the proper Time to grieve after such a loss’d do nothing but get them in trouble while trying to help others in need. Even the middle-aged woman’d advise against that, if she’d known what he was thinking since she was as logical as she was Emotional.

Breakfast was a relatively quiet affair once it was served, even though Zak was finally awake and had managed to get downstairs on his own without hurting himself. Still, none of the adults breathed a word about going back to Philadelphia as they ate in companionable Silence. The Time for them to discuss such a thing’d come soon enough, and in the meantime, it was best to just let sleeping Dogs lie, so to speak. Not only that, but it’d allow Richie to learn more about Paganism and protecting himself before he even tried to figure out just what the hell’d killed his parents–and possibly many more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I've really updated any of my stories, even this one–I just haven't felt up to writing lately. Got a lot going on offline, and I was also sick for two weeks with a double ear infection that just didn't seem to wanna go away. I guarantee nothing, even though I'm feeling better physically, 'cuz that other shit still needsta be addressed–and soon.
> 
> ~Banshee

**Author's Note:**

> Some details of this story're bound to seem familiar to anyone who's ever watched the shows _Ghosts of Shepherdstown_ and _Ghosts of Morgan City_. That's 'cuz I'm using a combination of their quote-unquote _storylines,_ just with a Change to the setting of said stories since none of Poison–not even CC–are from West Virginia _or_ Louisiana.  
> ~Firefly


End file.
